


Ambiguous Visions

by lilyunho



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angsty Wooyoung, Book Club, Dark Academia, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Everyone's Lowkey Whipped for Seonghwa, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hongjoong Just Wants to Make Friends, Jongho's a Trust Fund Baby, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, San Has A British Accent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyunho/pseuds/lilyunho
Summary: At the Euterpe Institute of Arts and Sciences, everything is not quite as it seems.Park Seonghwais the disgraced son of a multimillionaire.Jeong Yunhohas perhaps too much love to give.Kang Yeosangharbors serious doubts about, well, everything.Choi Sanhopes his parents find out on their own time.Song Minginever takes anything seriously.Jung Wooyoungjust wants to be able to afford rent.Choi Jonghoacts tougher than he really is.andKim Hongjoongbrought them all together under the pretense of a book club.What hidden secrets and desires lie beneath the surface?
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho & Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 47
Kudos: 109





	1. And So, It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> getting people to join a book club based around appreciation of pre-19th century literature is exactly as hard as it seems.

“Is that all you have to say about your little… book club?”

The copper-haired boy shifted around in his seat, unable to feel comfortable. It was much, much too grand for his small stature, and his shirt was beginning to stick to the leather. Never mind the fact he had just given a lengthy proposal to the dean.

His hand reached up and tugged at his collar. “Yes, ma’am. I believe it would be an, um, _enlightening_ opportunity for our school.” Throwing around the school’s favorite buzzword would be sure to help his cause, he thought.

The dean’s eyebrow quirked. “Enlightening, you say? But are you sure there’s going to be a demand for this? I can’t just give you a slot of the library’s time every week without a good enough reason.”

He gulped. “Well, uh…” The boy found himself completely at a loss for words. The truth of the matter was that he _wasn’t_ sure. Not sure if this was a feasible endeavor to spend his time on, not sure if he would be able to find community this way, not sure if he even wanted to be here, in the dean’s office, at this moment.

The dean let out an amused sigh, seeing the bewildered expression on the poor boy’s face. “All right. Mr. Kim, you have a promising idea. I can’t be sure of the popularity, but you have a certain enthusiasm about you. If you can find seven people to join your club before your first meeting—not including you, of course—I’ll speak to the librarian about sponsoring this… guild. You are free to leave.” 

She gave him a curt smile, unable to channel anything more than a professional grimace. It had been so long since a soul so pure had come into her office.

“Ah, really!?” The boy’s face was brimming with joy. “Thank you so much, ma’am. I’ll be sure not to disappoint.” He hurriedly got up from the very large and very old chair he had been sitting in and practically skipped out.

Hongjoong’s squeals of excitement could be heard for miles around. He himself was surprised at his outbursts; he usually was the introverted type who would prefer not to make loud noises in public, thank you very much.

But maybe this would be the chance to change that. Since entering college, Hongjoong never had many opportunities to make friends. Freshman year, his roommate was a total asshole that had thankfully moved out halfway through. When he was a sophomore, everyone had already found their groups to be a part of—the ones that hadn’t weren’t exactly the nicest.

It wasn’t that Hongjoong was a major jerk or someone who didn’t have the slightest concept of personal hygiene. He just never could find anyone to connect with, someone with the same interests, obsessions, and thoughts as him. Hongjoong wasn’t exactly that much into reading, but he thought the type of person to join a book club would be just the right person to be friends with. 

That night, Hongjoong couldn’t sleep. All of a sudden, life seemed full of possibilities to him. Tomorrow he would have to go out and ask people to join his club, a task that would have petrified him, had it been any other time. He had already worked on printing out helpful pamphlets and practicing what to say. 

All that he had left to do was to… do it.

 _Sure hope I don’t mess this up_.

≿━━━━༺🕮༻━━━━≾

“Excuse me! Would you-”

“Hi, I’m Kim Hongjoong, and—no, wait—darn it.”

“Come back! Please! For the last time, _I don’t want your money_!”

Hongjoong plopped down on the nearest bench, dejected. Getting people to join his club didn’t go as easily as he thought it would. He had started his quest at the school’s West Campus—where he spent the majority of his time. 

The design of the grounds was vastly more modern than its counterpart, the East Campus. Students at the latter campus tended to be from old money, and as a result, were commonly more conservative and stuck-up than the people at the former. West Campus kids were seen as uberliberal SJWs who always had their heads in the clouds; East Campus kids were spoiled brats who thought they were better than everyone around them.

It was a thirty minute walk from one campus to the other, and there was practically no common ground between the two sides, save for a colossal gilded statue of the Institute’s namesake muse, Euterpe (donated by an East Campus alumni).

It was much, much, much easier for Hongjoong to start his advocacy in a familiar place with people he already knew. The two districts of the school were like entirely different colleges altogether. 

Unfortunately, even the open and accepting students of the West Campus had no interest in joining a book club. All the people Hongjoong had asked were either already in too many clubs and activities or simply indifferent.

That is, until Hongjoong approached a bespectacled boy named Jung Wooyoung, who he just so happened to recognize.

“Excuse me, are you Wooyoung?”

The black-haired boy turned around, somewhat surprised that a total stranger knew his name. “Yeah, I am. How—?”

Hongjoong smiled kindly, trying not to seem like a total creep. “I’m pretty sure you’re in my 5th period English class, so that’s why I asked.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Not to be rude or anything, but why are you talking to me?”

Hongjoong was supremely embarrassed at this, but he forged onward. “You see, I’m starting a book club, and I was wondering if you’d like to join? You don’t have to, of course, I just thought...” His voice trailed off, seeing the other’s vacant expression. 

Wooyoung blinked back to reality. “Oh, I’m not really into reading and stuff. I’m actually failing English right now.” He attempted a chuckle to lighten the mood, as Hongjoong was becoming more and more crestfallen. “But, um, are there any cute guys there? Just in case?”

“C-cute guys?” Hongjoong echoed, simultaneously bewildered and amused. “Cute guys! Yep. Uh huh. Actually, I just spoke to some dudes from the East Campus earlier today, and some of them—the ones that wanted to join—were pret-ty hot.”

This, dear reader, was a lie. Hongjoong had not, in fact, spoken to _any_ East Campus guys in his entire time at college. Additionally, as a (mostly) heterosexual male, he wasn’t exactly the best judge of how attractive a guy was. 

However, it was a pretty convincing one, as Wooyoung immediately perked up. “Legit? Damn, then I’m down. When’s the first meeting?”

Hongjoong lit up. “This Saturday, 3:00pm. Can’t wait to see you there!”

“No problem! You have a pretty convincing incentive to join.” Wooyoung winked at Hongjoong, who smiled back. “Anyway, I gotta get to my next class. See you around.”

“You too!” Hongjoong shot back. As soon as the dark-haired boy was out of view, he jumped up and fist pumped the air. _My first member! One down, six to go!_

The rest of the day’s searching was wholly uneventful. The people Hongjoong approached were non-committal at best and antagonistic at worst. He was about to head back to his dorm and retire for the day when he caught sight of an interesting duo—a tall, brown-haired, greatly concerned guy was helping out his obviously inebriated and equally giant friend. 

“I’m— _hic_ —sober! Sosososo sober! Woulda drunk be able to do this?” The tipsy boy broke free of the other’s grasp and attempted to do a somersault/cartwheel of some sort. Whatever it was meant to be, it didn’t work out, and he fell straight on his bum. The boy looked around like a confused baby chick. “Success?” he halfway cheered. 

His brunet partner let out a mildly exasperated sigh. “Mingi, get your butt off the lawn. Your ‘designer’ pants are going to be stained permanently green.”

Instead of standing up, Mingi shifted into a crab-like position, hands and feet on the grass but rear hovering in mid-air. “Kaykay, I gotchu.” He shot a wink and a finger gun at his friend, but lost his balance and fell back down.

Mr. Designated Driver (as Hongjoong had taken to calling the brown-haired boy) glanced around to see if anyone was watching and made eye contact with Hongjoong. Both immediately flushed, one out of embarrassment, the other out of timidity. After a moment’s hesitation, the taller called out, “Hey! Can you help me deal with this obviously intoxicated train wreck over here? God knows I won’t be able to get him up by myself, he’s pretty much unconscious by now.”

Hongjoong blinked, once, twice. He quickly bounded across the field to the spot in which Mingi lay, then grabbed one of his arms, grunting with the effort. Mr. Designated Driver helped Hongjoong with the other arm. Mingi was now successfully propped between both boys, supported by their shoulders. After a quick attempt at synchronization (not without struggle), the trio headed for the West Campus dorms.

Now, Hongjoong wasn’t quite the type to make small talk, but considering both of them were in an equally awkward situation _and_ he was in dire need of members for his club, he felt it necessary to ask: “So… does this happen often?”

His taller companion looked over at him and laughed. “More than you would think. Though, usually, I have to lug him home all by myself. Thanks for being here…” There was a clumsy pause in the eloquent speech of the boy, for lack of a name. Hongjoong abruptly realized—rather too late—that they had never been formally introduced to each other.

“Hongjoong,” he filled in the gap. “Er—I’m Hongjoong. Sorry for not telling you earlier, hah.”

The boy brightly smiled at him. “No worries. My name’s Yunho. I’m Mingi’s roommate, and a junior.”

The still-unconscious Mingi nearly fell on the ground, as Hongjoong had almost dropped him due to shock. “A junior!? I thought you were a senior, or maybe a sophomore. I’m a junior too, but I can’t believe I haven’t seen you around campus!”

Yunho winced. “I’m… actually from the East Campus, so that’s where I take most of my classes. I dorm in the West Campus, though. Long story. I’ll just let you know that all the rumors you hear about the East Campus kids are completely true and I hate it.”

Needless to say, Hongjoong’s curiosity was piqued. However, Yunho’s face had hardened, and he didn’t think it was exactly the right time to say anything. The two wordlessly dragged Mingi into the lift. Yunho pressed the round “4” on the wall, and their ascent started.

_Well, it’s now or never. Once Mingi is safely delivered, I won’t be able to come into contact with Yunho again, knowing myself._

“Hey, um—" Hongjoong broke the silence.

Yunho’s eyes darted toward the shorter boy. “Yeah?”

“After this… like, not right after, but, y’know, sometime in the future… would you want to— I mean- um-”

Yunho’s eyes faced the ceiling. He seemed like he was trying not to laugh out loud. “Hongjoong, I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think I’ll be going out with you anytime soon. I mean, we barely know each other, and I’m at least ninety-nine percent certain that I’m straight.”

At this, Hongjoong went into flight or fight mode. He tried to do a bit of both before finally deciding on a third option that wouldn’t result in Mingi gaining a concussion: getting flustered and freezing up. “No, that’s not what I meant! I was going to ask if you wanted to join my book club, not— _that_! Ugh, why am I like this.”

Seeing the other’s red face, Yunho burst out laughing. “Bro, relax. You’re fine. Yeah, sure, I’ll join your club. I don’t have that much to do, honestly.”

 _Ding_ , the lift sounded, signalling their arrival at the fourth floor.

A wave of relief rushed over Hongjoong, both at Yunho’s words and finally getting out of the cramped space. “Phew, thank you. I need seven total members not counting me, so now I’m one step closer to that.”

“Woah, I didn’t know the school had requirements for clubs. How many members do you have right now?”

Hongjoong rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Two, now that you’ve joined," he answered, in the smallest voice possible.

Yunho sucked in breath through his teeth. “That’s rough, buddy. Have you already asked everyone at the West Campus?”

“Yep, pretty much.”

“ _Damn_. Well, I hate to say it, but you might have to try the East Campus.” Yunho stated, shifting the dead weight of Mingi to his other shoulder and signalling for Hongjoong to do the same. The procession marched onward, Mingi lying in a droopy plank position.

Hongjoong groaned. “I know, and that’s what I’m worried about. Not sure how they’re going to react to some poor kid begging them to join something so trivial when they have so much else to do.” He said that last part in a snivelly, mocking tone, in an approximation of what an East Campus kid would sound like. 

Yunho snorted, not offering any further commentary on the matter. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to the dorm room; after a long and gruelling journey, they had finally made it. “Here, can you hold him for a minute?” Instead of even bothering with Mingi, Hongjoong opted to lay the drunk frat boy on the ground. Mingi made a noise that sounded like something between a groan and a content sigh. 

After shoving open the door—the lock was prone to get stuck—Yunho carefully maneuvered the now semi-conscious Mingi onto the sofa. He drew a hand over his brow, wiping fake sweat off. “Phew. Thanks for all the help, Hongjoong.”

“Oh, no problem! Anytime.”

“By the way, when do we meet? The club, I mean. I don’t wanna miss it.”

“Hm? Oh, uh, 3:00pm, Saturday,” Hongjoong replied, preoccupied with making sure Mingi didn’t slip off the couch.

Yunho grinned. “Coolio. I’ll make sure to drag Mingi along.” His eyes darted to the lopsided digital clock in the corner of the room, widening when he realized the time. “Shoot, it’s one.”

Hongjoong immediately sprung up. “Oh my god, I have a test in six hours! Ugh, I really have to go.”

“Yeah, you better,” Yunho agreed. “Thanks again for all the help! Do you live close by? I can pay for an Uber.”

“Don’t worry about it, my residence is just over the hill,” Hongjoong reassured. “I’ll get going now.”

Yunho nodded. “Good night.”

There was a pause. Hongjoong felt like he should say something, but what? Instead, he opted to simply leave the room, closing the door behind him with an unintentionally loud crash. 

“ _Ugh, why are my ears ringing!?_ ”

“Mingi, I swear to God—"

≿━━━━༺🕮༻━━━━≾

After getting 4 hours of sleep and taking an exam that he knew he’d fail, Hongjoong mentally prepared to go over to the East Campus. If Yunho wasn’t lying and the rumors really _were_ true, he was in for a lot of bullying.

As he got ready to go out, Hongjoong decided to think like a materialistic brat. He put on the only pair of leather shoes he owned, a belt that was adorned with something resembling the Gucci logo, and a satin shirt that looked fancy but only cost around ten dollars. _You can do this, Joong,_ he thought to himself before taking the first few steps toward inevitable harassment.

The first few people he caught sight of were a group of three guys and three girls, happily chatting amongst themselves. _Well, they don’t look so bad._

“Excuse me, would you guys like to join my book club? It’s—"

One of the girls snickered. “Look at this guy’s bougie ass.”

Another guy snorted. “I know, right? Hey, you’re definitely a Westie, aren’t you? What are you doing around here? I’m not donating to your Patreon, if that’s what you’re after.”

Hongjoong was extremely baffled. While he would definitely appreciate a new patron, he had close to no idea how they knew he was from the West Campus. Whatever the case, he never got a chance to shoot back a rebuttal, as the squad moved onward, laughing even louder.

A long sigh escaped Hongjoong’s lips. He hadn’t been expecting them to be that hostile. Dejected, he sat down on the nearest bench and waited for a lone person to approach. No use going out and bothering people. 

Luckily, one kind soul did just that; a well-dressed boy, clad in a loose dress shirt and tight leather pants. His hair was long and brown, save for a shock of white on his forehead. The boy sat down next to Hongjoong, eyes crinkling into a genuine smile as he introduced himself. “Hi, my name is Choi San. I heard you were starting a book club?”

After getting over his initial surprise, both at San’s faint British(?) accent and the introduction, Hongjoong responded, “Yeah. Do you—?”

“Of course! Especially if it’s centered around Greek literature. Ugh, I’m a sucker for a good epic.” San gave Hongjoong a conspiratorial wink.

A bit taken aback, he quickly said, “You’re in luck then! The club is based around literature from before the nineteenth century, y’know, the _classic_ classics.”

“Ooh, neat.” San scooted a bit closer to Hongjoong on the bench. “I was wondering what such a cute Westie was doing all the way over here. I’m assuming you’re looking for club members, not romantic flings?”

“ _Um._ ” Despite himself, Hongjoong’s face was turning red. “Yeah, the first one. D-definitely not the second.”

San laughed. “I’m not sure if I believe you, but I’ll let it slide. I’m going to move on to a more pressing issue: somehow, I still haven’t gotten your name.” San’s head tilted, a grin spreading across his face. 

_Damn, who is this kid and who gave him the right to be this flirty?_ Hongjoong thought. He had never encountered someone this bold in all his twenty-one years on this planet. “I’m Kim Hongjoong, junior. And yeah, I’m from the West Campus, but you already knew that.”

San extended a hand. “Well, Kim Hongjoong, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Hongjoong shook it with a small smile. “Likewise.”

After a lengthy conversation in which the two traded contact information (among other things), San got up from the bench, checking the time on a huge diamond-encrusted wrist watch Hongjoong couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed until now. “Huh, it seems like I’ve got to go. See ya Saturday, Joong! Be there or be square!” San gave Hongjoong a two-fingered salute before coolly sauntering off into the distance.

Hongjoong stared after him wistfully, mourning the self-confidence he never had.

As soon as San was out of view, more people approached—this time, two boys walking together, one short with wavy chestnut locks, the other long-legged, with gelled jet-black hair. From a distance, it seemed like the taller would be more stoic, but as the duo came closer Hongjoong realized that that was not the case.

“Yeosang, you should totally come with! It’ll be fun, and we can ride bumper cars, and there’s actually super good ice cream! Ugh, it’ll be the best!” The darker-haired boy was bouncing around excitedly, his long puffy jacket swishing around his ankles. Meanwhile, his friend—assumedly, Yeosang—just sighed exasperatedly, but with a smile on his lips.

With one look, Hongjoong knew these were people he’d like to be friends with. “Hey guys! Sorry to bother you, but would you like to join a club I’m hosting?”

The boy stopped bouncing around and stared at him, eyes wide and face flushing. He obviously hadn’t expected anyone to witness his fawning. One hand immediately went to his hair, stroking it nervously. “Um… I’m not really the bookworm type, sor—”

“Actually, I’d love to.” Yeosang interjected. “I’ve actually been looking to find friends that read for quite some time now. Obviously Seonghwa here doesn’t have that many good recs,” he deadpanned. 

Hongjoong grinned widely, trying to mask his discomfort at the sarcastic jab. “Nice. The first meeting’s this Saturday, 3:00pm. Can’t wait to see you there! Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Inwardly, he cringed at his practiced script. Was this the fourth, fifth, or sixth time he had uttered the same set of words? Hongjoong couldn’t even remember anymore. 

Seonghwa, after seeing his friend’s response, quickly added, “You know what, I think I’ll join as well! Who’s to say I can’t pick up a new habit?”

Hongjoong was, needless to say, surprised. “Ah, really!? That’s great! Well, see you both there! Here’s my phone number if you need to call in sick, and, um, continue on with your day.” Learning from a certain Choi San, he shot a friendly wink at the two, making Seonghwa turn a bit redder. Did Yeosang narrow his eyes? Hongjoong couldn’t really tell.

Whatever the case, after a quick farewell, the two moved onward, and Hongjoong continued to wait for new initiates. He struggled to keep his eyes open though. He was just so tired, and the breeze was just so calming…

When he opened his eyes again, he met an intimidating but babyish face. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing? You can’t sleep here, this is private property,” the face said authoritatively.

“I’m so sorry! What time is it? I need to get back to the other campus!” Hongjoong stood up extremely quickly, words tumbling out of his mouth in a panic.

As he stood up, he realized that the menacing boy in front of him was all a persona. Sure, he might’ve been a couple inches taller than Hongjoong, but everything about his demeanor gave away the fact he was a freshman. Hongjoong didn’t know why, exactly, but he could almost smell it. 

That could’ve just been the sleep deprivation talking, of course, but that’s besides the point.

When he realized this, Hongjoong decided to seize the opportunity and make a last-minute attempt for a new club member—he sure as hell was _not_ going out and campaigning yet again. “Actually, lemme ask you a couple questions,” Hongjoong said, trying to channel all the confidence of Mr. Choi San yet again. “What’s your name? Aren’t you a freshman? And would you like to join my club?” 

The boy’s eyebrows shot up. Judging by his jacket, he obviously was some sort of class president or… prefect, maybe. Did the Institute even have prefects? Judging by the average pretentiousness of the student body, Hongjoong would have to believe so. Whoever he was, the boy responded, “My name is Choi Jongho. Yes, I am a first year student. And we’ll see about that club.”

Hongjoong tilted his head at the formal manner of Jongho’s speech. He was the perfect example of the stereotypical Eastie. “Wow, okay.” Hongjoong paused, waiting for some sort of cue from Jongho. Just in time, he delivered.

“Are you just going to stand there gaping at me or are you going to pitch your idea?” Jongho commented haughtily.

After a short glance off to the side like he was in _The Office_ , Hongjoong began to explain the club, as he had done many times prior. At the end of it all, Jongho nodded, seemingly impressed.

“I see. Saturday, you say? I may or may not show up.”

Hongjoong gave the other boy a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Great. I hope to see you then.” He was getting worn out talking to a juvenile that obviously wasn’t raised with respect for people “lower” than himself.

Jongho inclined his head at Hongjoong, the first polite gesture he had made during the entire course of their interaction. “As it’s getting late, allow me to escort you back to the West Campus dorms where you belong.”

“Ah, sorry, I’m okay. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Jongho’s stony face softened, and fell a little. “Oh… if you’re sure that you don’t need any company…” Hongjoong’s heart pinched. He could tell that this guy really didn’t have that many friends, something he could relate to.

Out of pity, Hongjoong quickly said, “Actually, y’know what? Why don’t you come with. You’ve probably never been on the West Campus before, so I’d like to show you around.”

The freshman’s face immediately lit up, making Hongjoong feel good about himself. “Then, let’s go!”

The entire half-hour walk between the campuses, Jongho lost the stick up his ass and became your average freshman—excitable, full of energy, and talkative. Really talkative, bordering on annoying.

Hongjoong strongly admired Jongho’s ability to keep up a conversation. Through incessant stories, complaints, and questions that required one word answers, Jongho allowed him to zone out, if only for a while.

It really was a win-win situation. Hongjoong didn’t have to talk, and Jongho finally had a chance to. When they stopped at the dorm building, Hongjoong could just tell the boy was sorely disappointed.

“Alas, I had so much more to say! I suppose I will just have to tell you more at the meeting.”

Hongjoong beamed. If he was correct, that made seven other members (if Yunho really was committed to dragging Mingi with him). His work was done, and all he had to do was hope no one flaked out. “See you then! Have a safe walk back.”

Jongho smiled back, finally comfortable. “Yes, I shall be seeing you. Farewell!”

And just like that, Hongjoong went inside, the door closing on the first chapter of the most influential part of his college years.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading all the way through the first chapter !! i appreciate that you’re still sticking around hehe  
> for the first couple chapters this fic will be mostly hongjoong-centric, but the main focus will shift around to each of the boys. they all have their own stories!  
> updates will be once every one-two weeks, depending on how busy i get ^^  
> **let me know in the comments what you think about this fic so far, what’s going to happen, etc. i'm excited to know your opinions!**


	2. A Series of Awkward Pauses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys have their first book club meeting. tensions rise and fall as they attempt to be productive.

Hongjoong usually was in a state of perpetual exhaustion, but Saturday was different. After waking up at noon, falling asleep, waking up again, then going to the bathroom and briefly splashing his face with water, he was up and ready to go. (Somehow, he still had near-perfect skin even without an established skincare routine). Before heading out, Hongjoong pulled out his phone and shot a quick text to the groupchat he had created the day prior. _Meeting today at 3, West Campus library! Show up with recommendations :)_

Instantly after he slipped the phone into his pocket, it buzzed. A string of K’s popped up on his notification wall. Hongjoong softly smiled, then put his phone back in its place and walked out of his room.

It was around two in the afternoon when he arrived at the library. The curator looked up from her desk, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see you again, Hongjoong. Here for Study Room A, 3:00-6:00pm?”

“Yeah, that’s correct.”

“Oh, that’s good, because just now a boy came in here looking for you, saying there was a club meeting. I showed him to the room, but I was hoping I didn’t mislead him.” The sprightly librarian lowered her head meekly.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. “Oh— well, there is one today, but I didn’t know anyone would arrive so early. Lemme go check up on him. Thanks for telling me, Miss!”

“You’re welcome. If anyone else arrives, I’ll direct them to the same room.” She nodded in farewell, and Hongjoong dashed away. Throwing open the door to Study Room A, he was shocked to find Choi Jongho sitting at the table, staring at the blank wall as if he were watching paint dry. 

“Jongho, what are you doing here this early? Messed up the meeting time or something?” Hongjoong asked, taking a seat.

“Well, my father said to always be timely when attending business matters. I’ve actually been here since eleven.” Despite the professional tone, he was obviously quite jittery, bouncing his foot against the floor.

Hongjoong’s jaw dropped. “ _Eleven_!? That’s before I even got up!”

Jongho shrugged. “He never specified how early.” A hint of a smile played on his lips.

“So, you’ve just been sitting here this whole time?”

“No, I’m actually in an entirely different place mentally.”

Hongjoong laughed, but didn’t say anything in reply. Wanting to find to do besides looking around the room, he pulled out his phone and pretended to be texting someone. In reality, he was just writing down random words in his Notes app, but let’s leave him alone for now.

Jongho went back to his… exciting? prior activity of watching the wall. Though, we’ll never know what he was searching for, because his expedition was interrupted by the door opening.

“‘Sup guys.” Wooyoung strutted in, moving with a groove in his step.

Hongjoong looked up from his screen. “Oh, hey Wooyoung! You’re pretty early as well.”

“I am?” Wooyoung sounded extremely disappointed. “Man. I was making a point of showing up late. Y’know, to impress.”

Hongjoong nodded in understanding without actually understanding Wooyoung’s reasoning. “I guess you’ll just have to try to look as intimidating as possible when the rest of the guys come in.”

“I guess,” Wooyoung echoed, slumping down in a chair. 

Meanwhile, Jongho was frantically trying to make eye contact with Hongjoong. He seemed in a state of panic, not sure whether to interact with this new person or not. On one hand, Jongho was the dean’s (alleged) favorite student, discipline master in training. On the other, at the current moment, he was the only freshman in the room—that fact would not change once more members started entering, to Jongho’s dismay.  
The oblivious Hongjoong took no notice of this fact, as he was preoccupied with the same conundrum. Wooyoung didn’t seem like an intimidating person in and of himself, but he did have the countenance of an experienced street fighter, with the way he stared down even a painting on the wall.

This facade was shattered soon enough, because when Wooyoung caught sight of the next boy to come in, he immediately jumped out of his seat, encompassing the other in a bro hug. “Ay, Yunho! It’s been a while!”

“You two know each other?” Hongjoong asked, surprised.

Yunho grinned. “We met through our mutual friend, Mingi. Plus... I see him at _a ton_ of parties.”

Wooyoung had to jump up to sling his arm around his giant friend. “This guy here’s a wet blanket, though. Way too responsible!”

“Well, someone has to stop you from getting alcohol poisoning. Lord knows Mingi can’t,” Yunho joked, ruffling the shorter boy’s hair with his knuckles. Wooyoung chuckled, but the humor had left his eyes. It seemed like Yunho had accidentally hit a sensitive subject. 

Sensing this, Hongjoong hurriedly ushered the two boys to sit down. Soon after the pair had taken their seats, another guy entered. He was all but terrifying; clad in a dark suit jacket over an even darker turtleneck, he towered over everyone except Yunho. A silver pendant hung on his chest, the only thing he was wearing that wasn’t some variant of black. When he glanced over at Jongho, the freshman froze in fear.

That is, until a smile took over the newcomer’s face. “Hey, I’m Seonghwa,” he said, flashing a peace sign. “I usually make it a point to show up at least half-an-hour early, but it took me a while to get ready. Sorry!”

Everyone—besides Hongjoong, who never was in the know about this kind of stuff and only knew the excitable side of him—seemed a bit starstruck that Park Seonghwa, _the Park Seonghwa_ , was standing in front of them. On both the West Campus and the East Campus, he was renowned for being… captivating? Mystifying? There really were no words to accurately describe him, but whatever the case, people found themselves inexplicably drawn.

After a few eager greetings were exchanged, Seonghwa sat down.

Looking over his shoulder, Wooyoung shot a thumbs up at Hongjoong. _Definitely cute,_ he mouthed. Hongjoong winked back, feeling pretty proud of himself. 

As such, the seating around the round table was becoming cramped. They probably could have squeezed in, if the Westies and Easties weren’t so committed to separating themselves from each other. There were eight chairs in total. Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and Yunho occupied one side, with Hongjoong squished in the middle. Jongho and Seonghwa were both surrounded by chairs, but Jongho looked to be on a particularly lonely island—he constantly shot desperate glances at Hongjoong, the only one he considered himself a friend of in that room.

The clock ticked on. The guys considered each other, wordless. Wooyoung was especially concerned with Seonghwa, giving him appraising looks whenever he had the chance. 

The creak of the door broke their silence. The next boy to stroll in was dressed casually, in a Thrasher shirt, beanie, and jeans. In short, he was the picture perfect skater boy. Seonghwa’s face lit up as soon as he saw him. “Yeosang, you’re finally here!”

Yeosang nodded in greeting and, exuding aplomb, slid into the seat between Wooyoung and Seonghwa. The former looked over with a strange glimmer of recognition in his eye. Seonghwa opened his mouth to start a conversation, but realized that most of the club members were watching him and closed it again.

Hongjoong glanced around. The time was 2:59pm, and two members still hadn’t arrived. Right as he was about to go ahead and start the meeting, a slender boy pried open the door with care.

“Hello! I hope I didn’t arrive too late.” San’s eyes crinkled up into friendly crescents.

“Ah, you’re fine! We were just about to begin, heh.” Hongjoong gestured toward the chair that was in the middle of Seonghwa and Jongho. “You can go ahead and take a seat.”

As soon as San was settled in, Hongjoong decided to take initiative. With a clap of his hands, he said, “Okay! Let’s go around and introduce ourselves! I’ll start. You guys probably already know me, but I’m Hongjoong, junior, majoring in music production.” His eyes scanned the room, waiting for someone to at least say something, anything. 

Luckily, Yunho swept in and saved the day. “Hey, I’m Yunho, dance major, and a junior as well! Nice to meet you guys!” His infectious grin garnered some smiles from the rest.

Going around the circle and skipping the space that was reserved for the tardy Mingi, Jongho was next to go. Swallowing nervously, he started, “My name is Choi Jongho. I’m a freshman, and I’m majoring in vocal performance…” His voice trailed off at the end as San applauded politely.

“So many fine arts majors here!” San remarked, easing a white lock of hair behind his ear. “I’m Choi San, but I usually dislike being referred to by my last name. If you have to get my attention, just San is fine. I’m also a junior, and I’m a sociology major. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” A scoff could be heard from Wooyoung at this last antiquated expression, and San’s eyes flickered toward him in distaste.

Quick-thinking Seonghwa jumped into his introduction. With his first syllable of “hey,” all eyes turned to him. A certain few had dreamy expressions take over their faces, listening semi-attentively to his every word. It was as if Seonghwa was a mythological siren, enrapturing any soul who heard him speak.   
Did they even register that he was the only senior, among a sea of juniors? (No, but most already knew that.) Did they really care about the difference between getting an anthropology degree versus a sociology one? (To tell the truth, the ones that had any interest in either subject would’ve figured that out by this point.) 

Nevertheless, as soon as he stopped talking, the almost-spell wore off, and the boys returned to their natural states. Yeosang seemed to have been the only one that wasn’t affected.

“What’s up, I’m Kang Yeosang. I skate, I have a drone collection, and I’m a comp sci major. Um... that’s all you need to know about me for now.” The corners of his lips upturned, and he flashed rock-and-roll hand horns at the group. A smile crossed Seonghwa’s face, unbeknownst to himself.

Finally, the metaphorical relay baton was passed to Wooyoung, who unabashedly introduced himself as “the sexiest sophomore in the room.” (He was, in fact, the _only_ sophomore in the room). Crickets could almost be heard, but after he threw his head back in a laugh, some of the others chuckled along with him. Wooyoung was a dance major, like Yunho, though he specialized more in contemporary as opposed to hip-hop. 

Once his introduction was done with, Hongjoong began talking. “So, I’m usually on the quiet side, but I want to use this club as an opportunity to get to know you guys better and make new friends. Of course, we’ll still be doing reading, but overall I want this to be a chill experience.” He shyly smiled, not sure of the other’s reactions.

“Well, love, I believe you’re doing quite a splendid job as of yet.” San beamed back at Hongjoong, with all the warmth of a cozy spot by the fireplace. “I have a suggestion for the first book we should cover.”

“Do tell.” Yeosang said offhandedly.

“ _The Argonautica_! Or, actually, maybe _Medea_ , that one’s much more gripping.”

At these incomprehensible words, seven blank stares were returned to him. San stuck his tongue in the side of his mouth. “Right, maybe a bit too classic…”

Wooyoung snorted. “If I wanted to read some dusty ol’ epic, I’d go back to high school English. Ugh, never again.”

Yunho winced and nodded in agreement. “I’m all for discovering new genres, but…”

Seonghwa snapped his fingers, an idea dawning on him. “How about _Divine Comedy?_ Dante? It’s an iconic classic, one of the best works of Italian literature, plus, I think you can download it for free online. I’ve had it on a to-read list for a long time, but never got to check it out.”

A sly grin appeared on Yeosang’s face. “Did you have to learn to read past a fifth grade reading level before touching it?”

A flicker of hurt crossed Seonghwa’s face. “No, I just haven’t had the time…”

Yeosang dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I get it. Seems like an interesting read, actually.”

“Ooh, will there be fight scenes? Because if so, I’m in.” A deeper voice suddenly projected across the room, startling everyone, especially Hongjoong. The intruder turned out to be a certain Song Mingi, who clumsily tripped over the leg of Wooyoung’s chair when entering. 

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Yunho stood up and grabbed his friend by the forearm, pulling him into the empty chair beside himself. “Mingi, this is a sophisticated club. No fight scenes that aren’t two-hundred-year-long wars.”

Mingi pouted. “That’s no fun. I have a limited attention span, y’know.” Despite his state of insobriety the previous day, Mingi didn’t have any common symptoms of a hangover—this fact was extremely shocking to Hongjoong, who had pretty much zero alcohol tolerance.

“Mingi!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “My man! Bro, we haven’t talked in _forever_. How’s your headache doing?”

The newcomer laughed out loud. “You know I don’t get those, Jung. I’m at the top of my game!”

Wooyoung pounded his chest twice in a gesture of respect, grinning.

Jongho coughed politely. “Um, if I may, who are you?”

The level of enthusiasm with which Mingi turned around was… astonishing, to say the least. “My name is Mingi! Junior, West Campus, yada yada yada. Nice to meet you!”

Jongho raised his eyebrows. “N-nice to meet you as well. May I ask, what’s your major?”

“Major?” Mingi vacantly gazed at him. 

San tilted his head. “He means what subject you’re specializing in, here at the Institute. You… have decided on a major, right?”

“No, yeah, I know what a major is, I just… forgot.” Mingi grinned sheepishly.

Wooyoung and Yunho burst out in laughter, knowing this was a regular occurrence, but the other members of the club raised their eyebrows in appallment. 

The boys from the East Campus—Seonghwa, San, and Jongho—traded amused looks at Mingi’s dullness, which they believed was a typical trait of someone from the West Campus. This earned some judgemental glares from the Westies, in defense of their campusmate. 

Yunho, always the mediator, quickly cut in with a “So, back to the actual club... How much of the book will we have to read before the next meeting?”

Hongjoong flashed a grateful smile at him. He was never good with conflict. “Right, I don’t exactly know how long the book is, but I want us to finish it… hmm, within a month?”

Seonghwa’s eyes bulged out of his head, defacing the ethereal image he had worn previously. “A month? A seven hundred ninety page book! _Within a month_!?”

A cocky smirk overtook San’s face. “Darling, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he replied, making Seonghwa flush. “That’s only around, hmm, thirty pages a day.”

Mingi made a choking noise. “ _Only?_ Y’all, I don’t think I’m ready for that type of commitment.”

Wooyoung chuckled. “Same. I might just look up a summary or something.” He stretched over the table and gave Mingi a fist bump.

Yunho furrowed his brow at his friends. “Guys, be serious! If you’re not going to keep up, then leave.”

“U-uh, actually, don’t. We kinda need all the members we can get,” Hongjoong quickly stammered.

Mingi looked between the two, engrossed. “I could be like… a bouncer or something. You shrimps obviously need protection.”

“Well, yes, we do, but I don’t see what that has to do with being a boun-”

“CHOI SAN!” Seven voices shouted in unison, stopping the conversation from taking such a turn. San grinned devilishly, not ashamed at all.

Jongho pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let’s go back to basics. We’re reading _Divine Comedy_ , thirty pages a day, next meeting at the same time, same place,” here he looked at Hongjoong for confirmation, “and same day.”

Yeosang, who had been quietly observing this whole time, finally spoke up. “So, if that’s all we need to cover… then why are we still here?”

There was a long pause in which everyone just looked at Hongjoong expectantly. Palms sweating, he finally said, “...Because I reserved the room until six and we still have two more hours to go? Plus, I’m assuming you guys don’t have anywhere else to head to.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” someone said, and the staleness was broken. Sparse laughter filled the room, and for just a moment, there was no divide between the eight.

“I’m not opposed to sticking around, but are we going to do those stupid icebreakers? Like, ‘say a fruit that starts with the last letter of your first name’ or some shit like that?” Wooyoung said, rolling his eyes like an edgy teen at the Thanksgiving dinner table.

“I enjoy those games, to tell the truth,” Jongho remarked.

“Hah, of course you do,” Wooyoung replied patronizingly.

San’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no need to be snarky. Just state your opinion, let him state his, and go.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, fixing San with a glare. “Don’t be so sensitive, _Choi_.”   
Yeosang automatically reached over, extending an arm over Wooyoung like they were in a car jerking forward. Jongho raised his eyebrow, now slightly suspicious about the relationship between those two.  
  
Yunho’s eyes flickered over. He then smiled apologetically at San and Jongho. “Sorry guys, it seems little Wooyoung here is getting a bit grumpy.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that,” Yeosang deadpanned, making Seonghwa snicker. He withdrew his arm to his side as if nothing had happened.

There was yet another break in conversation. Lord knows what they would do without the lively, talkative Yunho, who continued onward, saying, “So, Yeosang, what’s it like being the only one here with a ‘useful’ degree?”

Yeosang blinked in surprise, then realized he was referring to his computer science major and laughed. “Well, it’s kind of nice knowing I’ll actually be able to pay off my student loan debt.”

“Ouch,” Hongjoong said, clutching his heart. “That hurts on a personal level.”

Around the room, several of the boys replied with a “mood”. As most of them were liberal arts majors, they could relate to not being able to pay their bills. (Well, except Jongho, who had always been taken care of by his parents.)

The group started talking about various struggles they’d experienced at college, uniting around tales of eating cup ramen for weeks straight and having terrible sleep schedules. The wall that had previously been there between the wealthy and not-so-wealthy was broken down, brick by brick. No matter what background they came from, they could empathize with the struggles of being twenty-something and trying to find your identity in a messed-up world.

By the end of it all, Hongjoong heard the grandfather clock outside the door of the room strike six. He hadn’t realized that the time had passed so quickly, and mentioned as such to the other members of the book club. 

San grinned jovially, dimples appearing in his cheeks. Brushing his hair back, he commented, “Lads, this was surprisingly fun. Personally, I can’t wait for the next meeting. I’m curious as to what discussion will be like.”

Wooyoung snorted with derision, nonchalantly looking at his nails. “I don’t even have to guess. It’s going to be exactly as chaotic as this meeting was, maybe more.”

Hongjoong had no choice but to agree. 

“I’m excited to get to know you guys!” Seonghwa said hopefully, earning some adoring looks.

Mingi stood up and reached over for a high-five, which Seonghwa returned after a short period of being stunned. “Me too! As you can tell, I’m quite a social butterfly,” he preened. 

Yunho covered his face in second-hand embarrassment. “Mingi… anyway, this was fun! Most Easties I’ve talked to have been giant pricks, but you three seem pretty chill.”

Jongho frowned. “Aren’t you and Yeosang also from the East Campus?”

The two scratched the back of their heads, almost in unison. “Well…”

Hongjoong waved them off, not wanting to turn the discussion back to the root of conflict. “Thanks for coming, guys!”

“Thanks for hosting!” San shot back kindly, standing up from the chair. The others followed suit with their own appreciation. Hongjoong blushed from their gratefulness, not knowing what to do with his hands. 

There was yet another pause, as no one wanted to be the first to leave. At last, the straightforward Yeosang took the first step, and with a tip of his beanie, he was gone. Seonghwa quickly tagged along; once his radiance was no longer present, the rest were much more willing to disappear.

With Yunho being the last to leave—he had to apologize for the behavior of Wooyoung and Mingi, but of course Hongjoong said it was fine—Study Room A was empty. Hongjoong wistfully looked on after the members, hearing their footsteps departing from the library. _Definitely cute guys_ , his mind echoed. _Let's see how this goes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading !!  
> this chapter's a slower one, as they're still getting to know each other. the action will definitely start picking up by the next one, so stay tuned~~  
> no update next week, because i'll be taking time to organize all the plot threads floating around in my brain into one outline <3 i have so many great ideas that i can't wait to show y'all !!  
> i'm so grateful for your support :))


	3. An Ordinary Weekday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we follow half of the book club boys as they go about their usual routines.

As Mingi rested his head on his desk, he got the strange feeling that he was missing something. Something very important, that could possibly be on… a quiz, or maybe even a test.

“Mr. Song, are you _sleeping_ in my class?”

Mingi jolted up. “Absolutely not, teach! I’m letting the information sit in my brain, you see. Closing my eyes equals better levels of concentration.” He shot a charming grin at his professor. Scattered giggles could be heard echoing through the lecture hall.

With a shake of his head, the teacher replied, “Let’s hope you’ve been taking notes so far. Information has been resting in your head for _far_ too long.”

Mingi brought his hands to his face, the dictionary example of embarrassed. “Sorry, teach! Continue on!” With a wink, he was forgiven.

Though, he still couldn’t shake that little voice in the back of his head telling him to straighten up and start working. At this point, it should have gone away. 

All throughout his years of schooling, Mingi never felt studying and taking notes to be that essential. What was the point of doing whatever the hell “revision” was? If he wanted to retain information, he could just go out and see things for himself.

That mindset started to change as soon as he entered college, but it was already too late. He had dug himself into a hole that he wasn’t getting out of anytime soon.

After class, Mingi slung his backpack over his shoulder and started for the exit quicker than anyone else.

“Mr. Song.”

With an over-dramatic sigh, he turned around. “Yes, teach?”

The kindly professor rubbed her eyes. “You have around fifteen missed assignments, and I’d be correct to presume that you’re not planning on turning a single one of them in anytime soon.”

A guilty expression came upon Mingi’s face. “I-I’ll try harder next time, teach.” He started toward the door again, but got pinned down by a single small but nonetheless intimidating cough from the professor.

“Mr. Song, is there something else going on? You’re a very bright student, but… you lack concentration. Is this a result o-of familial affairs, or anything similar?”

He refused to make eye contact. “No, nothing like that. I’m okay, I swear. Just lazy is all.” Mingi tried for a small smile, but there was no amusement on the other’s face.

“Hmm. You do realize I’m a _psychology_ professor, right?” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Well, if you insist that your humor in class isn’t actually a cover for anything else, then I’ll send you on your way.”

Mingi furrowed his brow. He hadn’t insisted anything. _Darn psychologists and their magic mind tricks. She’s not getting me this time._ “Yep, I’m gonna go. Thanks, teach!” He tried to seem as nonchalant as possible while he all but ran out of her classroom.

Mingi didn’t stop running until he reached his dorm room. This wasn’t for some dramatic, plot-driven reason, but simply because he didn’t know how to slow down in public without coming to a full stop. Even as he was in the elevator to the fourth floor of his residence, he continued running in place (albeit completely unnecessarily). As soon as he heard the _ding_ he bolted out of the lift, heading straight for his dorm—not without knocking into several walls and one lamp along the way.

“YUNHO!” Mingi yelled, jumping on the couch and tackling his unaware friend. 

After making a noise that sounded like gargling mouthwash and simultaneously coughing, Yunho said, “Done with classes already?”

“Yeah, but my psych prof kept me behind. She says I’m concerning and my missing work is a result of my parents separating when I was young? I don’t know where she got that info from but isn’t it weird that she most likely stalked my Facebook page? Anyways I don’t know what she’s on about, I’ve done a lot of work recently—” As Mingi spoke, he slowly slipped off Yunho… then off the couch… then onto the floor, still monologuing away.

Yunho nodded patiently, waiting for Mingi to take a breath. As soon as there was a pause in his speech, Yunho jumped in with “So basically what you’re saying is that your psychology professor got on to you about your lack of work ethic, and now you think there’s a giant conspiracy all stemming from your parents’ divorce.”

“Exactly!”

Yunho shook his head. “Dude, you need to go do your homework. For real.” 

Mingi pouted. “Can’t I just lie on the floor? I’m really tired, I ran all the way here.”

“Yeah, I saw your little waddle-jog from the window.” Yunho flashed a teasing grin at his roommate, who good-naturedly scowled back.

With a groan, Mingi sat up. “Guess I’ll get to work… can I borrow your laptop?”

“It’s already set up for you.” He paused. “By the way, how do you have a _ten percent_ in History 201?”

“You have access to my grades!?”

Yunho rolled his eyes, as if this was common knowledge. “Song, you obviously weren’t gonna keep track of your schedule if I wasn’t here. Why shouldn’t I have access to your report card?”

Mingi spluttered. “I-I mean that’s t-true, but—”

“BE PRODUCTIVE.” Yunho stood up and started rolling Mingi across the floor toward the general direction of the one (1) table they owned; Yunho’s most prized possession, a gaming laptop complete with LED lights that he had bought in high school, sat pristinely on the flat surface. 

After a few prods, Mingi sat on the too-tiny stool bordering the table, awoke the computer, and started on the assignment with the earliest due date—which, as it turned out, was supposed to be submitted three months prior.

Yunho stood over Mingi’s shoulder, watched him for a while, then started absentmindedly pacing around the apartment. After the eighth lap around the room, Mingi finally said “Look dude, that’s getting hella distracting.”

“Oh, sorry man.” Yunho stopped his pacing, instead opting to grab his earbuds. “I don’t want you to be the only one working in this household, so I’ll do some assignments as well. There’s this choreo I have to do—”

Mingi raised a hand in confusion. “Hol’ up a minute. You’re telling me that instead of having to write essays and stuff, you just have to dance?”

Yunho let out a chuckle that sounded like he was dying inside. “Not instead of… on top of.”

Mingi’s small eyes widened in horror. “Woah, okay. Feel free to boogie around over here, I won’t be distracted.”

“I highly doubt that, but thanks. Usually, as you know, I head to the studio, but—” 

“YOU. BE PRODUCTIVE.”

And so, twenty minutes later, Yunho was busy working on his technique, while Mingi was frantically writing utter nonsense for an essay about cognitive psychology. 

“Yo, do you _have_ to stomp that aggressively? Whoever’s downstairs is gonna kill you one day, I swear to god.” Mingi joked, engrossed by Yunho’s hard-hitting moves.

Yunho pushed his sweaty hair back, laughing. “Do I have to? No. Will I get a better grade and look cooler if I do? Yes.”

“Fair point.” Mingi stretched, putting his hands behind his head. “Ugh, I don’t even know who Lev Vygotsky is, but this guy sure is making this paper hard to write. Can I just chill out for a while?”

“You barely even started.”

“Yeah, but I need a break.”

Yunho sighed playfully, but didn’t say anything. He only continued his routine, jerking his head in a tilt if things didn’t go exactly how he’d want them to. Mingi stared, entranced by his friend’s moves. He never got tired of watching Yunho dance; it was obviously his passion—one both of them had shared until university. 

Mingi smiled, eyes taking on a vacant look. He remembered how the two of them had met in a dance crew in 9th grade, hitting it off immediately. They were joined at the hip all throughout high school, inseparable, definitive best friends. When Mingi announced he was heading to EIAS, Yunho had no choice but to follow.

Sometimes he did wonder if Yunho liked being stuck with him. Yunho never had a chance to make any other friends, because his top priority always had to be Mingi. If Mingi got drunk and started singing at the top of his lungs, Yunho had to take him home and apologize for the distraction. If Mingi got behind on his homework, Yunho had to be the one to hold him accountable. 

Thinking about it, Yunho never had any time for himself. Mingi’s smile shifted to a frown. All of Yunho’s friends happened to be Mingi’s—this was due largely in part to his frat lifestyle, partying until sunrise every single day. He wasn’t even sure if Yunho enjoyed getting drunk and doing stupid dares. Mingi was ashamed to admit that he didn’t even know what his _best friend_ wanted to do with his life; what were Yunho’s goals? His ambitions? What was the thing he desired most? Was Mingi just baggage, holding him down from achieving his dreams?

Yunho looked over at his friend, who was staring at him with an intense, guilty look. He sensed a disturbance in the force, and told him as such. “Song, what are you thinking about?”

Mingi blinked back to reality. “Nothing. Just… zoned out, is all. Jeong?”

“Uh huh?”

“You don’t have to stick by me all the time, y’know. I…” Mingi swallowed, hesitant to tell the truth about what he felt. “I’m with you, like, twenty-four seven. We should have a change. Maybe you should socialize with the Easties more, or something.”

Yunho gazed at the other boy, trying to read his expression. It had been a while since Mingi had gotten such a serious discussion started, and he knew it wasn’t for absolutely no reason. He tried for a grin, masking how wounded he actually felt.

“I totally understand, Mingi. We—this is our junior year. We won’t be able to follow each other throughout our careers, so why not start the split now?”

Mustering all the courage he had, Mingi nodded in agreement. “Yeah. It’ll be different, but worth it.”

“I hope so.”

The best friends considered each other wordlessly. This was perhaps the _only_ awkward pause that had ever occurred within their entire time of knowing each other. Somehow, Yunho felt like he didn’t know Mingi at all, and the same could be said for the opposite.

Mingi slowly turned back around, finding even a twelve-page essay more appealing than having to maintain remorseful eye contact. 

They had known each other for years, after all. Mingi could see when Yunho was in pain, even if he was attempting to hide it.

≿━━━━༺🕮༻━━━━≾

Meanwhile, a couple miles away, a sturdy boy was progressing through his campus, giving curt nods to any passersby he came into contact with. 

“Good afternoon, Professor. I’m delighted to be able to join you for dinner this afternoon.”

“Good afternoon as well, Mr. Choi. Your parents are quite the polite hosts.”

Jongho gave a small smile to his teacher, then continued on his walk. That was one of his least favorite professors at the school, but a teacher is a teacher, so of course he had to suck up to that one as well.

It was tough being a teacher’s pet, as well as dean’s favorite, model student, and university advisory board council leader. (No, it did not matter that he was the only one on the council besides… a dusty bookshelf with paperbacks of the highest quality—if quality referred to scandalous situations and lewd prose). 

At least that meant he had friends. As his parents always said, friends could be of any age, race, gender, or religion, as long as they paid up when needed. That was why it was Jongho’s highest priority to make sure everyone was pleased and happy with his services.

“Ay, is that Choi I see?”

“Hey ‘ho. Kiss any asses lately?”

“Prolly did more than just kiss—”

The group of boys burst out in laughter.

Jongho drew in a sharp breath. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“ _Good afternoon, gentlemen,_ ” one repeated in a mocking tone of voice. “Do you even know what you sound like?”

 _Lord, give me strength._ “I wasn’t aware that the formal manner of my speech was bothersome to you. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind for the future.”

The bullies snickered again, one with a particular loud laugh close to a hyena’s. Another opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the arrival of a new person.

“Excuse me, am I interrupting anything?” A semi-deep voice said, and a protective hand was slung over Jongho’s shoulder.

The group’s facial expressions slowly shifted from ridicule to reverence. Jongho rolled his eyes, already knowing who was standing next to him.

Jongho’s harassers rapidly chattered among themselves, before a single bold boy spoke out. “Yo, aren’t you Park Seonghwa? Why are you even associating with this kid?”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes. “It’s not your business to know that. Why are you guys hanging around and being annoying and downright mean in the first place?”

“Woah, chill—”

“Considering that you all are sophomores, you should already know how to be considerate to others.”

A boy with bright red hair interjected. “Goddamn, we were just joshing. Learn to take a joke, boomer.”

Seonghwa shot his eyes to the side, then back at the guy, stepping closer. The red-hair’s posse backed away, but the arrogant (apparent leader) of the group puffed up his chest, one eyebrow raised in a challenge.

Seonghwa stuck his tongue in his cheek. “You’re Kim Sungwoo. Upstart, dad won the powerball.” He said this as a statement, not a question, but Sunwoo answered anyway.

“Yeah, and?”

The senior smirked. “It’s funny, I saw some interesting graffiti sprayed in the parking garage of my dad’s headquarters, the one eight blocks from here. Obscene, to be sure.”

“Doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Seonghwa continued on, ignoring the sophomore. “My father was furious when he saw it. Said he’d ruin the life of whoever the culprit was.”

“Okay?” Sunwoo scowled.

“See, the thing is, there was a tag near the bottom that read ‘KSW’. I couldn’t possibly pin down who it’d be, but don’t those initials match yours? Quite the coincidence. If word happened to pass to my dad…” Seonghwa shrugged, palms up. 

“I-I’m not the culprit though, s-so I don’t see what that has t-to do with me,” Sunwoo stammered out. 

“All I’m saying is that my father is known to destroy careers. Be warned.” Seonghwa stepped back, scanning the petrified faces of his juniors. “Don’t bully freshmen just because you don’t have anything else to do. Especially not this one.”

He started to leave—the group of boys simultaneously let out a breath of relief, Jongho included. Laughing quietly to himself like some sort of anime villain, Seonghwa turned back around.

“And by the way, you mess with my friends again…” He slowly drew a thumb across his neck in a “you’re dead” gesture, chain glinting in the sunlight.

Needless to say, the sophomores took off.

Jongho stood alone, watching Seonghwa with raised eyebrows. The senior broke out in a smile. “Sorry about that. Had to get the point across.”

“Oh… thank you for taking care of them, but you really didn’t have to.” Jongho said, scratching his head.

“Nah, it’s okay. I know those punks, they’re nuisances. It won’t be the last I’ve seen of them, but hopefully it will be for you.” Seonghwa patted Jongho’s head in an affectionate manner, flustering the poor boy. “So, have you been reading the book?”

“Of course! Y’know, I’ve already finished my assigned pages!”

“Good for you!” 

The two continued walking and talking; Seonghwa felt proud to see this other side of Jongho, as he was used to seeing the pretentious brat side in class. (Somehow, Jongho attended extremely high-level courses when it came to mathematics, and Seonghwa always caught sight of his hand shooting up near the front of the lecture hall around twenty times per lesson). 

Something about this kid awoke a paternal side in Seonghwa he hadn’t even known he had. It was similar to what he felt when he spent time with his youngest brother, five years his junior.

“So, Seonghwa, is your father really that fearsome? Would he actually have devastated that boy’s family?” Jongho questioned, brow furrowed.

Seonghwa let out a spiteful laugh. “Fearsome, yes. As to whether or not he would have believed me if I reported Sunwoo, that’s a different story.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

He stopped in his tracks, face hardening. “Let’s just say I don’t have the best relationship with my dad, yeah? There are… some major things we disagree on, but I won’t get into that for now.”

“Oh.” Jongho watched his elder cautiously, seeing if he would say any more. When Seonghwa didn’t continue, Jongho said, “So, as I was saying—”

Seonghwa grinned, listening to Jongho’s rant about different styles of opera and how opera semiseria was obviously superior to any other, French or Italian or otherwise. He didn’t quite grasp the concept, but it was a welcome distraction from the dark place thoughts about his dad, a vicious corporate giant, always took him to. Jongho reminded him of himself, in a way; seeming cold, but a giant softie.

And so, the two boys strode on—not exactly into the sunset, but pretty close. 

≿━━━━༺🕮༻━━━━≾

Wooyoung knew it was a bad idea to have a horror movie marathon all by himself, alone in the dark, with a creaky-ass apartment. His current strategic position was curling up with blankets in the corner and hoping that that noise was just coming from his laptop.

Tons of spooky noises were filling the air: a squeak of a floorboard, the pitter-patter of rat feet, the howling of the wind through the trees. It was as if every single trope had come out to personally haunt Wooyoung, and he was _not_ living for it.

As time went on, Wooyoung became more and more jumpy. When he heard the turn of the doorknob that was when he lost it. Shrieking, he threw the covers of his head, not caring that he had kicked his computer across the room.

Footsteps. A couple more. Wooyoung was paralyzed. Then a humorless voice, calling out to him in the blackness.

“Honey, I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh cliffhanger !!!
> 
> this chapter was slightly different than usual, as i wanted to showcase the boys' relationships with each other. i wonder who wooyoung's mysterious visitor is... leave your guesses down below >:)
> 
> the next time all eight will meet will probably be either next chapter or the chapter after, so we'll see if they've actually been keeping up with the book haha
> 
> again, thank you for following this story <3 i love seeing comments and your reactions, it always makes my day! and even if you've only been silently reading, i'm still grateful! tysm <3<3


	4. Unbreakable Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apparently there are more already-established connections in the book club than we had previously thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _all names given to relatives of the ateez boys are completely made up <3_

After a brief moment in which Wooyoung could do nothing but stare at the intruder, he came to his senses and quickly righted himself. He tried to take no notice of the fact that his flung laptop was probably in quite the broken state at the moment. Instead, as the singular light bulb switched on and flickered weakly, he asked,  
“Yeosang, what the hell are you doing in my room?”

“I live here, asshole.” Yeosang threw his bag onto the floor and stood with arms akimbo, looking at the disgruntled Wooyoung with an expression of almost pity.

Wooyoung scoffed. “Not since last year you haven’t.” He paused. “Why, did your East Campus pretty boy dump you?”

Yeosang’s eyes shot toward the ceiling, like he was seeking for someone to give him strength. Ignoring that last phrase, he replied, “You obviously can’t function like a normal human being without me here. It looks like you haven’t even bothered organizing in months.”

“Why would I need to clean up when I only sleep here?”

A skeptical expression took over Yeosang’s face. “When I came in it didn’t look like you were doing much sleeping.”

Wooyoung grew defensive. “Yeah, well—”

Strolling across the room, Yeosang crouched down in front of the bundle of blanket that just so happened to contain his irritable roommate. “Anyways, this is _our_ apartment, so you better get used to it.”

“It’s not ‘our’ apartment if I’ve been living here _alone_ for _months_! Plus, there’s only one bed!” Wooyoung gesticulated wildly toward the couch, though it was hard to do that when he was wrapped in a duvet.

Yeosang let a smirk dance on his lips. “We could always share…”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, KANG! I AM NOT SHARING A BED WITH YOU!” Steam was almost coming out of Wooyoung’s ears. “GOD.”

“Just a suggestion. I guess that means you’ll be sleeping on the floor?” As the indignant Wooyoung spluttered out words he didn’t have, Yeosang walked to his fallen bag and started pulling out various toiletries and appliances. 

“Oh no no no no no. You don’t get to just _waltz_ in here and _claim_ the sofa!” Wooyoung threw off his blanket and stomped over to block Yeosang’s path.

“Well, I’m the one paying all the bills, so why shouldn’t I?”

“Um? You’re not, though.” 

Yeosang snorted. “So you haven’t noticed that the credit card all the payments are being made from is owned by someone with the last name Kang?”

“No, that’s because they’re made from a certain Jung’s account,” Wooyoung replied, looking smug.

“Don’t make me pull up the records—”

“Do it, then!”

There was an awkward period of silence where Yeosang had to take his phone out of his pack and wait for it to start up. It took a while, but the record showed that in fact yes, Yeosang was correct. 

Wooyoung’s face tinted pink. “Oh. S-still my apartment though.”

“If it’s your apartment, then I’m a guest.”

“Right.”

“You wouldn’t make a guest sleep on the floor, now would you?”

This time, Wooyoung was truly at a loss for words. Triumphant, Yeosang proudly laid down upon his prize, the fold-out. The other begrudgingly brought over his pillow and sat next to the couch, claiming he didn’t trust Yeosang to take care of it.

Just like that, it was two in the morning—neither of the boys knew it at the time, but sleep would not come upon them that night. They only realized this when Yeosang tried getting out of bed and ended up prompting a loud expletive from Wooyoung instead.

They considered one another in the dark, only just making out Yeosang’s stiff form and Wooyoung’s limp stance. After a bit, they both started chuckling.

“Yeosang, I’m glad you’re back.”

“I am too.”

“Wasn’t expecting to see you in that book club, by the way.”

“I could say the same for you.”

Even without seeing him, Yeosang could tell Wooyoung was brightly grinning. “I was promised that there would be cute guys there and wasn’t disappointed. That Park friend of yours is… something else.”

Yeosang glared down at the spot where he presumed Wooyoung’s head was. “Seonghwa’s off-limits.”

Wooyoung pouted. “Oh, are you guys—”

“ _NO._ No. We’re just friends, nothing more.”

“So you won’t mind hooking me up with him?”

Yeosang let out a loud sigh. “Jung, I would be executing an unfair punishment upon Seonghwa by giving you the ability to slide into his DMs. I’m not sure how you’ve managed to survive in society for this long.”

Wooyoung unleashed a kick upon Yeosang’s calf, making the boy stumble back onto the couch. “Well we can’t all be as popular as you, Kang.” He spat out Yeosang’s surname like an insult.

Unbothered, Yeosang shot back with an “Aww, don’t worry, you still have your San.”

Wooyoung made a noise somewhere between getting hit with a soccer ball and choking on food. “That dickhead? He’s _not_ ‘mine’! You really are insufferable, you know that? God, I hate him.”

“I don’t see why. He’s exactly your type,” Yeosang said without even trying to hide the mirth in his voice.

“Look, you obviously have never even seen his mullet.” Wooyoung made a retching sound. “And the accent? What the hell is up with that? We’re thousands of miles away from Britain yet he still maintains it?”  
In the middle of his rant, someone banged on the wall, most likely their next-door neighbor. “Yo, shut up!”

Yeosang burst out laughing. “Sorry!” he whisper-yelled back. Turning to Wooyoung, he said, “Are you done with your San tangent?”

Wooyoung crossed his arms. “No.”

Yeosang breathed in and may or may not have done the “boi” gesture at his temperamental roommate. “You better be, because there are other things in this world that are more important than you making hating someone part of your personality. Like, for example, that club we were just talking about.”

“What about it?”

“Bro, have you even started on your reading?”

“No, and I do not plan to.”

Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s it. I’m moving back out.”

“Fine, I’ll be glad to see you go.”

“Why’d you join a book club if you weren’t planning on reading books?” Yeosang said quizzically. 

“Did you not hear me? Cute. Guys.”

Yeosang’s life flashed before his eyes as he considered the decisions that had led him to this point; going to the same high school as Wooyoung was probably the worst choice he’d ever made. Maybe if he ever got a do-over he would beg his parents to move somewhere else, where Jung wasn’t present.

Then again, Wooyoung’s over dramatic flair probably passed onto him after years of being in his company. In actuality, being friends with him had its perks. Despite his irascible nature, Wooyoung was reliable and in fact quite witty, once you got to know him. He had gone through a lot, more than the average person, and Yeosang didn’t blame him for being stubborn and petty once in a while.

“Kang. Kang _._ Yeosang, are you even listening to me?”

“No, not at all.”

“I said that you need to look past what you _think_ is important and focus on what really _is_ important: romance. I mean, you’ve been at this school for a wholeass year longer than me and you still aren’t in a relationship? Dude, that’s just sad.”

Yeosang scoffed. “Okay, Mr. ‘Sexy Performance’. Looks like you’ve been spending a lot of time with your nonexistent boyfriend lately.”

“That was a low blow.”

“Oh, it was? How about—”

And so, the two (not necessarily best) friends continued their bickering long into the morning. A happy reunion? Maybe, maybe not. A necessary one? Definitely.

≿━━━━༺🕮༻━━━━≾

What no one realized was that earlier in the evening, miles away and near the heart of the city, an extremely elite and affluent family was having a reunion of their own, one that had made all the local newspapers; this was not a simple get-together, but a historical meeting of the most distinguished conglomerates in the country. It just so happened that Wooyoung and Yeosang’s two favorite topics of discussion were present at that event.

The stout and scholarly Mr. Park stood strong, his wife by his side. “Choi-nim, it’s been a while since we’ve met. I’m sure you remember my son, Seonghan.” The aforementioned boy bowed respectfully to his uncle-in-law. 

“Yes, of course. Likewise, you know of my pride and joy,” here he smiled, not without restraint, “San. His sister could not make it, unfortunately.” Similarly, San’s mother was standing by, eyes discreetly shooting daggers at Mrs. Park.

Bows were repeated, a tiring but necessary formality. San looked behind Mr. Park and his eldest son to the boy looking down at the floor. Their eyes met, but both quickly looked away, embarrassed at the recognition.

The two adults conversed with one another for a while, not noticing the stale atmosphere the younger males found themselves in. When they broke apart to start the dinner, multiple sighs of relief filled the room.

Now, the place where you sat at the long table determined your status. Mr. Park, for example, was by far the most successful businessman in the family and took a spot near the head of the table, Seonghan at his right hand. (Where was the other Park, you ask? At the other end, distanced from his prestigious family members.) A few chairs down sat Mr. Choi.

“San-ah, come sit,” he beckoned, a kind but commanding glint in his eyes.

His son began approaching, but couldn’t help noticing his peer sitting in a place unfit for the son of one of the most affluent men in the world. “Actually, I think I’ll go sit further down there. I’m not one to get involved in business politics, so I don’t think my presence will be necessary here.”

A dark look passed over Mr. Choi’s face, but he tried to keep his neutral demeanor. He couldn’t allow his son to sit in a lowly position and risk losing face. “San, _come here._ ”

“You’ve always said I needed to make more friends nearer to my age, right? I don’t believe you’re quite as close to my age as you would think.”

San’s dad lowered his voice. “You know why we don’t associate with him. Rethink your decision immediately.” 

“With all due respect, you cannot do anything to stop me.” Calming his racing pulse, San merely grinned back at his father and took the seat next to his classmate and senior, Seonghwa.

Instead of immediately jumping into conversation with him, San decided to remain silent and bide his time as waiters placed plates of food in front of them. He was incredibly conscious of the elder family members watching him, not to mention Seonghwa right beside him.

Minutes passed. When San was sure the adults were sufficiently drunk (on power, yes, but specifically on exquisite wine), he gathered up the courage to turn to the boy next to him with a “Hello, cousin.”

Seonghwa gulped. “San, you never should’ve come to me,” he hissed, eyes wide and frantic. “My reputation is—should be—mine alone.”

“If that’s the case, nothing I do will cause that to pass onto me.”

Exasperated, Seonghwa responded, “It’s not the time to play dumb. I’m not sure you’re exactly aware of what you’re getting into by being seen with me. Do you really want my rumors to become yours?”

The corners of San’s lips upturned, but pain was visible in his eyes. “What am I supposed to do, let my favorite cousin be exiled? Cast out? Nonsense.”

“Even after what I did?” The words sounded broken, with an undertone of tiredness; he had too much experience with being looked down upon.

San’s voice softened. “You didn’t do anything, Seonghwa.”

He forced a smile. As much as he wanted to believe San’s words, he had been told otherwise too many times. “Sure.” Seonghwa shifted his attention to the steak in front of him. Even though his outward composure was the epitome of calm, San saw the way he gripped the fork a little too hard, the tense hold of his hand upon the knife’s handle. 

Seonghwa didn’t want to be here tonight, and neither did San.

Yet the two cousins could do absolutely nothing about it. They smiled, nodded, and faked their way through interactions with the rest of their relatives. A nosy aunt who wanted to know when they would get girlfriends. Someone’s baby daughter, who babbled and giggled and brought a genuine smile to Seonghwa’s face. A loud, bigoted uncle who nobody liked but was just appropriate enough to be invited.

Four hours into the dinner, a decision was reached. Stocks would be traded, companies would be bought over, ownership would be passed down. San had to pretend that he knew what exactly happened. Something good, obviously, as a champagne bottle—most definitely enough to pay for a year’s worth of frugal meals—was brought out and shared. 

Even the youngest got a glass, a sign that this was historic. 

But San couldn’t be bothered to care, and by the looks of it, Seonghwa couldn’t either. When a toast was proposed and glasses were clinked, San downed his in one go, prompting judgemental looks from some of the rest. A wry smile spread across Seonghwa’s face. Discreetly, he followed suit.

A couple hours later, elevators came down from the twenty-ninth floor carrying several inebriated business executives and their filial children. A parade of unmarked black vehicles driven by chauffeurs were waiting outside the venue. 

Shielded by the rain underneath the overhang, San and Seonghwa stood together, watching the eighty-fifth richest man in the world make a fool of himself. His grandchildren were worriedly trying to get him into a limousine, murmuring that he would get soaked. In response, he just started singing a classic trot song louder.

San snorted. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

Seonghwa looked over. “How so?”

“This man has probably ruined countless lives from signing a single sheet of paper. He’s contributed largely to the death of our planet. Yet… now he’s just a drunken fool, having to be babied by people literal generations younger than him. I would describe it as pitiful, or pathetic, but that implies that I feel sympathy for him.” A sharp laugh escaped San’s mouth, eyes tinted with hatred. “I’m ashamed to be related to him, if only distantly.”  
Seonghwa was surprised at how harsh San’s tone—and face—had become. Tentatively, he reached over and placed a caring hand on his shoulder, without a single word. 

A dimple appeared in San’s cheek. Shaking his head, he continued, “I know I’m not supposed to care. Why should I care? But still, I do. I should be able to fix something, anything, no matter how minimal. Corruption just continues to prevail… Seonghwa, we’re part of this family too. Shouldn’t we be held responsible? Why hasn’t anyone cursed at us or looked at us with disgust? Why is it only our own evil relatives that scorn us?”

Seonghwa was at a loss for words. The eloquent manner of San’s speech was a jarring contrast to the despondent nature of his words. After a long pause, he replied, “I don’t know, San. There’s no answer to your questions. But the fact that you’re not one of them should be something that you’re proud of.”

San looked at Seonghwa for a while, head tilted in consideration. He then let out a sigh, maybe of relief, maybe of despair. “Fuck, I need a cigarette.”

“You don’t smoke.”

“Maybe I should start.”

Both boys chuckled. Just then, San’s name was shouted, cutting through the air. His mother looked like she needed help handling his dad. A couple wild gestures let him know that the situation was at least semi-urgent.

Seonghwa shot San an understanding look. With a roll of his eyes and a pearly-white grin, San was off, leaving Seonghwa by himself.

Throughout the whole night, Seonghwa had been ignored by his relatives (save for a few disdainful stares and contemptuous whispers). He hadn’t realized how much he needed his cousin’s comforting presence. San… was a complicated character, truly, but caring and sociable and kind, above all. 

Without him there, Seonghwa was simply alone.

As the line of cars moved past, Seonghwa watched the elite class stand huddled together, talking and laughing and gossiping about the latest fashion. He observed his elder brother partaking in conversation—though Seonghan seemed to be getting along well, his eyes kept darting toward Seonghwa with almost a guilty expression.

How strange. If San was tender and considerate, then Seonghan was the complete opposite, callous and unobliging. But the guilty look in his eyes told Seonghwa that he wanted to go over to him.

Seonghwa looked away. His complicated relationship with his brother was not something that he wanted to deal with at the moment, not something he was prepared to do in the first place.

At last, it was time for the Park family to depart. Their father had scheduled for their limo to arrive last intentionally; as they were the most wealthy, they were the most in danger of being followed (or so he said—truthfully, Seonghwa believed it was so he could stick around and brag for a little while longer). 

With their father in the row ahead of them, talking to their driver, the two brothers were left in the back, alone. Sardonically, Seonghwa thought that if the oh-so-perfect Seonghan was wanting to make amends, now would be the right name.

Needless to say, no words were exchanged that night, and Seonghwa went home still the shunned and forgotten son of multi-millionaire—no, billionaire—corporate mogul Park Youngchul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for tuning in yet again !! i apologize for the sudden midway mood change haha! now that you have a small backstory for each of the boys, the plot will really begin rolling next chapter, when they reunite for their second meeting...
> 
> if you'd like to contact me to talk about my writing or simply just have a chat, my [askbox](https://lilyunhowrites.tumblr.com/ask) on [tumblr](https://lilyunhowrites.tumblr.com) is always open!!
> 
> 🥺🥺💝💘❣️💕💞 thank you guys so much for all the love you have been showing this work!!


	5. The First Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> contains: a substantial amount of geeking out over long-dead philosophers.

Hongjoong’s week had been pretty dull, which was surprising, to say the least. Aside from the usual eccentricities that constantly graced his routine—fighting his archnemesis Gertrude the campus goose, getting called a Soundcloud rapper (multiple times), being rained on the exact moment he stepped foot outdoors—he had no interactions that were worth telling a story about.

That left him to his usual habits of painting denim and scribbling down song lyrics while earnestly waiting to reunite with his found friends from the book club. Living alone without a roommate, it was easy for Hongjoong to feel lonely.  
Luckily for him, that day was finally here. 

With a spring in his step, Hongjoong hurried to the library, wondering what could be expected from this meeting. He knew Jongho would already be present, that was for certain. Wooyoung and Mingi would add just a pinch of chaos to the group dynamic. Seonghwa… huh. Seonghwa would be as enthralling as always. As for Yunho and Yeosang, he was looking forward to Yeosang’s snarky comments and Yunho’s friendly, supportive demeanor.

Hongjoong wasn’t exactly ready for everything to go the way it did.

When he (a bit too enthusiastically) threw open the door to Study Room A, there were zero Chois waiting for him. Feeling a tad bit disappointed, Hongjoong plopped down in a chair and waited for the rest to arrive.

When Jongho finally entered, he wasn’t alone. Just like a remora, it seemed like he had found someone to attach himself to: none other than Park Seonghwa, in the flesh. 

As soon as Jongho made eye contact with Hongjoong, a peculiar emotion streaked through his face; like remorse, but not quite. Masking it with a grin, he pulled up a chair next to Hongjoong and said, “Hello, Hongjoong. How have you been?”

“Good, thanks for asking,” he replied, smile barely reaching his eyes. Hongjoong had thought Jongho was _his_ freshman to adopt, _his_ new younger brother. It turned out that Jongho was willing to get taken in by anyone willing to listen.

The conversation flowed to schoolwork and majors; it wasn’t exactly a topic that they were particularly fond of, but the alternative was silence, which they preferred even less.

Yunho and Mingi soon entered. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but something was definitely different, something Hongjoong couldn’t exactly place.  
He only realized later that there was a physical space between the two; their usual habits of having an arm slung around the other’s shoulder or heads leaned together were nowhere to be seen. 

Another change—the usually lively Mingi’s temperament had shifted. He simply sat down in a chair and crossed his arms over his chest, without a single word of acknowledgement.   
It wasn’t that he was angry, no. It just seemed like he didn’t exactly want to be in the room, or any place at all, really.

Hongjoong didn’t have time to dwell on this for long, because the next duo to come in brought dissonance to the previously mellow room. Yeosang and Wooyoung were intensely discussing something essentially completely pointless and utterly futile, to the point of almost yelling.

Seonghwa’s face, which had lit up when catching a glimpse of Yeosang, slowly morphed into an expression of cringe as he noticed how absorbed in conversation his friend was. Nodding to nothing in particular, his sullen gaze shifted downward.

Soon enough San waltzed in, walking with a certain bluster in his step like always. This got Wooyoung to stop running his mouth for one second—if only to saucily roll his eyes and pretend like he didn’t notice or care at all.

Unlike his apparent nemesis, San truly was unbothered, humming a song and scatting beneath his breath, dancing all the way to his seat.

Wooyoung let out an unnecessarily loud sigh, letting San know he disapproved. Turning to Yeosang again, he said, “I really don’t understand why you don’t agree with me on this—”

“Because your reasoning has no logic behind it and you’re simply wrong,” Yeosang replied, crossing his arms.

“Really, I think you’re just too dumb to get it.”

“You seriously are stupid, you know that?” Yeosang dragged a hand over his face. “Remind me why I even live with you…”

Seonghwa’s eyes became large, looking back and forth between Wooyoung and Yeosang in confusion (was that a tinge of heartbreak in his gaze?) “You guys dorm together… I didn’t know that…”

“Um, actually, we’re not _dormmates_ , we’re _roommates_ ,” Wooyoung interjected. “I bought an apartment because living on campus is for losers.” He drew out that last letter ‘l’, beaming with superiority.

Mingi abruptly spoke up. “Jung.”

“Yeah, what?”

“No one actually cares.”

Wooyoung gaped. Mingi had never before spoken to him in such a harsh tone; if he was ever reprimanded, it was always in a joking manner. Because of this, Wooyoung found Mingi to be easy prey, someone that was always able to be trod on. With just four words, Mingi had managed to shatter Wooyoung’s entire view of his elder and put him in place.

“Is the meeting gonna start or what?” Mingi said, looking over at his next target. Hongjoong was staring at the only senior in the room, watching as a hard-to-place expression took over Seonghwa’s face; his eyes were darting from Yeosang to Wooyoung constantly, like he knew there was something more between those two than just sharing a living space, like he was at the verge of losing it over a miniscule fact but knew that having an outburst wouldn’t be the proper thing to do.

“Yo, Hongjoong—”

“Right, yeah, sorry, let’s begin!” Hongjoong quickly said, face heating up at being caught. “Did everyone manage to finish the first quarter of the book on time?”

Nods all around (except the obvious omissions Wooyoung and Mingi, who both hadn’t bothered downloading the PDF or even researching what the book was about to see if they’d like it.)

Yunho grimaced. “I only got around to Canto XI, I think. I had a pretty busy week, sorry guys.”

“Oh no, it’s totally fine!” Hongjoong reassured him.

“The only reason I met the goal was because I had absolutely nothing else to do. Might as well read some classical poetry,” San said, eyes like crescents.

Yeosang shrugged, an almost-smirk playing on his lips. “I’m not usually a big fan of self-insert fanfiction but this has been pretty good so far.”

San opened his mouth, meaning to object to that controversial statement, but closed it again when he realized there was nothing to argue about.

Jongho, taken aback, said, “Moving on… I’m not exactly sure what the animals in Canto I were supposed to represent. That thought kept me preoccupied as I read through the first volume, as well as the entire rest of the text.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure they’re linked to the deadly sins in some way?” Hongjoong pointed out.

San nodded. “Yes, the leopard’s lust—”

“Lion is pride,” Yeosang continued.

A quiet voice from the other side of the table added, “The wolf’s avarice.” Everyone turned to look at the previously silent Seonghwa. They expected him to explain further, but no further words left his mouth.

“Yeah, right, exactly!” Hongjoong quickly said.

“Ohh, I see. As expected, greed is the most dangerous and most tempting of them all.”

Affirmations sprouted from around the room. San then began a sprawling ramble about his interpretation of the text, his opinions on the various circles of hell, which punishments were “subpar at best and utterly uncreative”, and his excitement for the next volume.

He paused to take a breath, furrowing his brow in remembrance of something Jongho had said. “Darling?”

The boys looked among each other, confused at who the pet name was directed at. Yunho slowly brought his forefinger up, first pointed at himself but then at Wooyoung. The latter slapped his friend’s hand down, shaking his head in repulsion.

San rolled his eyes playfully. “ _Jongho_ darling, sorry, should’ve been more specific.” His gaze shifted to Wooyoung, darkening slightly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jung. I wouldn’t call you anything more than irritating.”

Wooyoung scoffed and almost rebutted but was stopped in his tracks by a stern look from Mingi.

“Anyways, like I was saying… Jongho dear, you do know that we were only supposed to read up to Canto XXV? Sorry, you said you had read the entire—”

Jongho cleared his throat. “I may have gotten a little carried away. Not much to do and all that, heh.”

“Well, as long as you don’t spoil anything,” Hongjoong responded cheerfully.

A sardonic lilt in his voice, Wooyoung said, “Yeah, I’d definitely care if I learned the ending to a book that’s been out for, what, two thousand years.”

San burst out, “Everyday I question why you’re even in this book club, Wooyoung. Two thousand? You really think Dante Alighieri lived during the time of Jesus?” He sighed, looking off to the side as if he was questioning the fate of humanity.

“Hey, why are you targeting me?” Wooyoung replied defensively. “I’m not the only one here who isn’t reading.”

Mingi began to explain himself but San waved him off. “Our dear friend Mingi here serves as our bodyguard, if you remember. You are the only one here without a purpose.”

“Oh, so you’re calling me useless?”

“Yes, that’s exactly—” 

“ _Guys._ Guys,” Yunho jumped in. “San, drop that holier-than-thou attitude, we’re all dumb college kids here.”   
Wooyoung smirked triumphantly, but Yunho immediately called him out by saying, “Jung, stop being so immature. You’re better than this. _Both_ of you are better than this.” Yunho sat back down, eyes telling Hongjoong that he better direct conversation back to the book, and fast.

“Ah, I found a question on the internet that I thought would be interesting to ask…” Hongjoong stammered out, trying to remember it off the top of his head. “Um, i-if you were… uh… if you were to end up in Dante’s version of hell, which circle w-would you be in, or want to be in?”

The boys derisively squinted at him, wondering if he had just pulled that out of nowhere.

“Definitely the ninth circle,” Yeosang replied. “We haven’t gotten to it yet but it’s reserved for the worst people and that’s where I belong.” He said this without any hesitation; it was as if he was just stating a fact that people should already have known.

 _Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have asked a question with so much potential for self-deprecation,_ Hongjoong thought, mentally slapping his past self. 

Jongho laughed nervously. “Don’t put yourself down too much, you’re certainly not _that_ bad.”

Yeosang stared at him quizzically. “Who are you again?”

Seonghwa, sensing that his underclassman friend was about to get his feelings even more hurt, interjected, “I’d go to limbo. Getting to converse with famous thinkers—philosophers and poets alike—for all eternity doesn’t seem too terrible.”

“The negatives really aren’t that harsh,” Yunho pointed out. “Though, I suppose they’re not meant to be, being the first circle and all.”

“I quite agree,” San said, sighing longingly. “Ah, to be able to discuss ethos and principles with Aristotle… he’s surely my favorite thinker, though an underrated one.”

That last remark left the room feeling slightly dubious of San’s knowledge of Ancient Greek thinkers.

San, abruptly noticing that they may have caught on, quickly diverted attention to the quieter-than-usual Seonghwa. “As you were the one who brought up limbo, who are you looking forward to seeing there?”

“Huh? Oh. I’d say Antiphon. Not many people consider him to be up there with the likes of Plato or, as you said, Aristotle, but his theories served as a precursor to Locke’s natural rights doctrine and even the Declaration of Independence.”

“Ah…”

Seonghwa bit his lip in thought, which briefly distracted Yeosang from his current position of drifting off to sleep. “Of course, if I were to choose a more mainstream moralist, I would say Socrates. His contributions to epistemology are nothing minor.”

“You do make some solid points, but I do believe—” 

Wooyoung cut San off. “Okay, okay, Imma stop you two anthropology sociology whateverlogy nerds right here before you start geeking out even more. Jesus _Christ_ . I have no idea how you managed to make the atmosphere _duller_.”

Jongho stated his agreement. “Though I do enjoy philosophical discussions and would love to take a deeper dive, we need to allot this time to facilitate discourse of literature.”

“Basically Jongho wants to talk about the book more,” Yunho interpreted.

As the leader of the club, Hongjoong decided it was his place to affirm what the two boys had said. “Ah, right. Try not to get too carried away, guys!”

San apologized, as did Seonghwa, and the club went on. Yeosang, happy to get back to talking about the text, asked a decently thought-provoking question—something about the influence of both Christianity and the Classics on Dante’s work that was utterly dreary to people like Wooyoung and Mingi (as well as the other two Westies, to be fair) but riveting to the genteel East Campus residers.

By this point Mingi was deep in unconsciousness, having gone from thinking about what he was going to eat for dinner to reminding himself there was supposed to be a party at that one senior’s place to considering whether or not to go since he was super tired to falling fast asleep.  
Seeing his sleeping acquaintance, Hongjoong let a tender smile spread across his face, reminded of his first encounter with Mingi and Yunho and how the two had exuded camaraderie. Hongjoong couldn’t help but notice that Yunho was mirroring his expression. He wondered what had changed since then.

Eventually, the shards of light coming in through the small upper window of the study room were colored orange. All in all, today had been a productive meeting with much more discourse than dissonance—aside from Wooyoung and San’s frequent feuding.

The boys departed on their own time. A general sense of drowsiness pervaded them; perhaps it was Mingi leading by example, with his tired, half-open eyes, or the sunbeams warming their faces and making all that they saw seem like a figment of their imaginations.

Hongjoong, eager to solidify an actual friendship with at least one of the members, caught up to the lone Seonghwa quickly. “Hey! Do you have any plans later? Um, I-I don’t have much going on, and you seem pretty chill, so…”

Seonghwa looked at the junior with wide, marvelling eyes, wondering what’d he’d done to be held in such regard. He _had_ been invited to a party that was supposed to start in a couple hours—its whole premise was “That One Hot Guy Park Seonghwa Is Going To Be Here” so it really was vital for him to attend—but to be honest the person hosting it was a douchebag. It seemed like he would have a much more enjoyable time hanging out with Hongjoong.

But Seonghwa simply couldn’t ignore Yeosang. Standing off to the side, profile illuminated by the setting sun, looking like a figure straight from the Greco-Roman myths of tragically handsome boys and dead lovers.

He _also_ couldn’t ignore the fact that Wooyoung had his arm wrapped around Yeosang’s shoulder and was now boisterously chattering about getting takeout and binging their favorite show for the umpteenth time.

Seonghwa was forced to snap back to reality. Yeosang already had a best friend. _He_ didn’t. Making eye contact with Hongjoong, he softly grinned. “Sure, sounds fun.”

Hongjoong’s emotions could best be summed up as pleasantly surprised. “Ah, really?” Realizing that sounded slightly rude, he quickly said, “That’s great! Wow, okay. Um. Should we just, uh, head to my dorm? I don’t have a roommate if that’s important—”

Seonghwa shrugged, still grinning. He had thrown all caution to the wind, but somehow he wasn’t worried. He quite liked where this was going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i smell foreshadowing? 🤔
> 
> this chapter was a lot of fun to write! i hope your reaction to all the academic talk was more along the lines of san than wooyoung hehe
> 
> i had originally intended for it to stretch on for longer, but i decided that the extended portion would fit better as the beginning of the next chapter. so! that means you'll be getting the next installment hopefully in about a week~
> 
> thank you for sticking around, this chapter gave me a bad case of writer's block but i have more inspiration now than ever!! just gotta pace myself ^^


	6. Wavelengths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's evening, and there's a peculiar sort of magic in their air.

Seonghwa didn’t think he was the pretentious type.

Yes, he came from an extremely rich old money family, and yes, he only ate at places with at least two Michelin stars, but that didn’t mean he looked down at people less wealthy than him.

But when Hongjoong had to kick open the door to his dorm, causing white flakes to drift down from the ceiling—“it tends to get stuck,” the musician had explained—Seonghwa inadvertently raised a judgmental eyebrow. And when Hongjoong toed empty plastic water bottles out of the way, Seonghwa couldn’t help but scrunch his nose in disdain.

Hongjoong turned around to look at him, a grin large across his face. Seonghwa smiled tightly back, then, a bit belatedly, mentally admonished himself. 

"Wow, I haven't had someone over in forever," Hongjoong commented.

"I haven't been over to someone’s home in forever."

For truly, the last time Seonghwa had been to a friend's place was childhood — and even back then, the house wasn't nearly as cramped as Hongjoong's apartment. Gleaming marble columns adorned with gilded ribbons, the littlest details perfected; it didn't seem like a home at all, merely a museum. Though expansive, Seonghwa distinctively remembered feeling claustrophobic, suffocated; invisible eyes watching him from every corner, judging him, daring him to misstep. 

With that image contrasted with the view in front of him, Seonghwa had a newfound appreciation for the lackluster dorm. It at least had the air of being accommodating and hospitable.

Hongjoong leapt onto his bed—the most prominent piece of furniture in the apartment, placed in the direct middle—with a content sigh, before quickly getting up again abashedly.

“Ah, how rude of me, I should do a room tour!” Hongjoong pointed to his left, where a laptop sat on top of a stool, the wired headset that was connected to it lying on the floor. “So here’s where I make music.”

“It’s…” Seonghwa racked his brain for polite ways to describe it.

Hongjoong laughed, seeing Seonghwa’s semi-nervous expression. “It’s shabby, I know. Don’t really have the money or space for a full-blown desk, so I just sit on my bed and use the stool as a table.”

“...actually ingenious.” It was shabby, true, but it looked comfortable. Seonghwa admitted he wouldn’t have thought of it himself.

Continuing on with a playful smile, Hongjoong conducted the rest of the tour from the same position. All areas of the apartment could be seen just from the foot of the bed. In the corner was the closet, over there was the miniscule bathroom that Hongjoong deemed useless—he only went there if he wanted to get a better Wi-Fi signal, all business could be conducted down the hallway.

Seonghwa was impressed by Hongjoong’s mindset and deposition. For so long, the only people he had been exposed to were the likes of the typical East Campus student; they had everything set out for them and a golden future ahead, but lacked the ability to be humble. More, more, more was the eternal chant they sang.  
Even when Seonghwa was at his worst, he knew this behavior was wrong. But that meant he offset it with acquiescence. Head down, eyes low, not speaking unless he was spoken to. Anything more would result in severe punishment. It _had_ already resulted in severe punishment.

Seonghwa put his tongue in-between his teeth, lost in thought. Would he trade his privileged upbringing to be like his West Campus almost-friend? Lacking in money, abundant in freedom and happiness? Did Hongjoong have the same inner turmoil he had?

“Hey, Seonghwa.” The crinkling of polypropylene brought attention back to Hongjoong, who was popping a strangely neon-red chip into his mouth. “Lost in thought?”

Seonghwa blinked owlishly. “Hm?”

“Wondering if you should’ve come over at all? Sorry, I know you expected better.” Hongjoong said with a sheepish tone. Abruptly, he stuck his tongue out in disgust—not at Seonghwa, but at the flavor of the snack he was eating. “Ugh.”

“No, no! I like it here. Different than what I’m used to, but it’s—it’s pleasant.” Seonghwa paused for a second. “Pardon, but… If you don’t quite like those, why did you purchase them?”

Hongjoong shrugged, still wincing from the spice. “They’re addicting. Honestly, whoever came up with the formula did their job right. It’s obviously not good for the consumer, but, like—”

“—You can’t keep yourself away from them.”

“Phrasing’s a bit dramatic, but yeah.” Hongjoong threw up a chip and caught it with his mouth. When he looked at Seonghwa again, a faraway look had taken over his eyes. Lost in thought again. This time, Hongjoong was certain it was about a particular person, but he really didn’t think he was close enough to ask. He wanted to be a good friend, listen to his problems, give advice, but there was a certain level of awkwardness that Hongjoong simply did not know how to deal with.

While he was jogging his foot anxiously and while Seonghwa was in a different place altogether, there was no better time for Hongjoong’s phone to ring.

He picked it up quickly, hoping for an adventure, something to take them both out of his cramped apartment. 

And good God, did Mingi deliver.

The caller ID was Yunho, of course; Hongjoong never got Mingi’s number, as he had no need to—they came as a package deal. When he answered, he was fully expecting to hear Yunho’s mellifluous voice on the other end, not Mingi’s bright but gravelly tone.

“ _Yeah, so, um—_ ”

“Mingi!” At Hongjoong’s exclamation, Seonghwa’s head pivoted.

“ _Yeah, that’s me, uh—_ ”

“What’s up? How’s it going?” 

“ _Dude, I wouldn’t be calling you with Yunho’s phone if I wanted to have a casual chat. No offense._ ”

Hongjoong deflated a little. It was in his nature to ask about people’s days. The only form of social interaction that didn’t require any prior knowledge about a situation. “Right…”

“ _Anyway, I need you to come over to our dorm. Yunho said you’re good at lugging people around._ ”

“I—what happened this time?”

“ _Surprisingly, I’m not the one piss-drunk. But San’s over here whining about something—_ ” San’s voice could be heard, indeed querulous, in the background “ _—and a certain freshie can’t stop giggling._ ”

If Seonghwa’s eyebrows went up any higher, they would fly straight past his hairline. “A freshie? Does he mean Jongho?”

Hongjoong echoed after Seonghwa. “Do you mean Jongho?”

“ _Duh. Look, I’ll explain when you get here. Is Seonghwa over?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“ _Bring him with you. Just in case._ ”

“Alright, see you in a few.”

“ _Mhm. By the way, Yunho’s dead._ ” Just like that, Mingi hung up.

Hongjoong turned to Seonghwa and ever-so-casually said, “We have to go. Yunho’s dead.”

Seonghwa began to start putting on his coat, grabbing his keys and his phone. Suddenly, he froze. “Yunho’s dead?”

“Yeah, Yunho’s— _Shit, Yunho’s dead!_ ”

≿━━━━༺🕮༻━━━━≾

Mingi was impressed by the speed at which the two came over. Impressed by the bluntness of Hongjoong, too.

“ _Where’s the body_!?” He had blurted out, obviously not aware of how loud he was being. Or maybe he was, but didn’t particularly care. Either way, Mingi respected it.

Seonghwa was more observant, the Holmes to Hongjoong’s Watson. “There’s no body. Yunho’s dead tired, more like.” It was true. Yunho’s chest was steadily rising and falling, the sign of deep sleep. “How much did he drink?”

“Nothing,” Mingi answered, “but wrangling the other two drained all his energy.”

Hongjoong whipped around, trying to find the next person to be concerned about. His eyes landed on Jongho, who was rocking side to side, a giddy smile on his face. “How much did you give him? What type of alcohol was it? Where’d you get it?”

Mingi raised his hands up in surrender. “Us guys of the legal drinking age—me, San, Yunho—decided to stop at a bar or two. Jongho decided to tag along, not my fault.”

“That answers where, but not what,” Seonghwa jutted in.

“It wasn’t that bad! Just a couple glasses of sangria. I ordered it on the rocks, but I guess the bartender forgot to leave out the alcohol.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong blinked a couple times. Then, in tandem, they launched into a barrage of words.

“ _Virgin!_ The word you were looking for was _virgin_ , dumbass!”

“On the rocks means _with ice_ , not non-alcoholic! Have you never been to a bar in your _life!?_ ”

“You’re so stupid. You’re stupid, you know that?”

“Great job, you gave a freshman alcohol. Is he even nineteen yet? Can he even drink overseas?”

“He’s barely out of high school and you took him to a fucking _bar_! How dense do you have to be?”

“Why’d you let him come along?”

“Yeah, Seonghwa’s right, you should’ve made him stay at home!”

Mingi stared at them. For two people that had known each other for, what, two weeks? A month, maybe? their amount of synergy was through the roof. Yunho and him were like that, once. 

There was no way for him to reasonably explain how Jongho ended up with the group without getting San’s help, but San was in an irritable mood as of yet. Honestly, Mingi didn’t think San deserved to be cranky—it was _his_ idea to go out in the first place.

Well, Mingi supposed he couldn’t blame San entirely. He just _had_ to get out of the apartment he shared with Yunho, the stuffed atmosphere making him feel claustrophobic. There’s always a sort of awkwardness when you’re talking to someone you’ve never met before, but there was an entirely different kind when it came to someone you used to know. _Especially_ when that person was your confidant, your soulmate of sorts. And it wasn’t that the bond was completely gone, it was just that it was a shell of what it once was—gah, that’s why Mingi left in the first place.

Mingi had told Yunho he was going out for a walk, but he didn’t really plan on coming back. He was going to fall back on Wooyoung, like he always did.  
(That was another problem, then. Only hanging out with people when he wanted to take his mind off of things… or if he had to face the music. Why could there be no happy middle? Did he always have to be so extreme?)

Whatever the case, Mingi had run into San right outside the entrance to Wooyoung’s dormitory (weird), holding a lighter but no cig (doubly weird). Completely unprompted, San suggested going bar hopping. Mingi wasn’t quite in the mood to drink, but he didn’t have a reason to say no.  
Going on a tour of the city with someone you barely knew, what was the worst that could happen? Not to mention that someone’s social circle was lightyears away from yours…

How did Jongho and Yunho end up at the same pub as them, anyway? Mingi was halfway sure that San had arranged for Jongho to have a break from his prefect duties, sure, okay. But he was _certain_ Yunho was still watching ESPN when he exited the dorm. So somehow, Yunho had left the dorm after Mingi without him knowing. 

Holy shit, did Yunho _follow_ him? Mingi didn’t want to think about that too long. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

“Mingi, we asked you a question,” Hongjoong said with a stern voice. 

“Look, man, I didn’t ‘let’ him come along. I just didn’t do anything about it.”

“That—That’s precisely what let means. You didn’t oppose it, so you were okay with it.”

Mingi shrugged. “When I was a freshman, I got my upperclassman friends to get me drinks all the time.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you still twenty?”

“That’s what fake IDs are for,” Mingi replied, tapping his temple.

With a disappointed sigh, Seonghwa went on, “It was still irresponsible of you, as a junior, to not have your little brother in mind. There’s a reason Hongjoong and I are upset. Look at him!”

Jongho seemed to be sleeping as peacefully as a baby, a significantly more displeased San sprawled out on the floor beside him.

Mingi clicked his tongue. There was a condescending air to how Seonghwa was berating him. Mingi wasn’t even related to Jongho, for God’s sake! Why should he have to make him his responsibility?  
He was all for being polite, but only if the respect went both ways. Seonghwa was an especially revered student at EIAS; Mingi could only imagine having enough privilege, both in terms of fame and money, to talk down to people. He was a firm subscriber to the belief that no matter your social class, you should treat other humans as your equals. Mingi didn’t quite like how Seonghwa appeared to be a fair-weather friend, only nice when you weren’t challenging him.  
“Dude, what’s done is done, okay? I called y’all here to take these guys back to the East Campus, because I don’t fuckin’ know how to get to the dorms over there. Y’all weren’t present when me and Yunho were helping these kids get home safely, so y’all can’t be lashing out at me for no good reason.”

The way Seonghwa was biting his lip, Mingi couldn’t be sure if he was trying to seduce him or intimidate him. “There wouldn’t be a problem, but—”

“Hwa, please.” Hongjoong butted in, saving Mingi much stress. “Let’s just go. Thanks, Mingi, by the way.”

Mingi nodded at Hongjoong. He really did respect that shortie with the doodled sneakers and weird sort of determination. 

Just like that—though stiltedly—Hongjoong grabbed San, Seonghwa grabbed Jongho, and all four were out of the apartment. Mingi had peace of mind, for the first time in this long, long day. It was hard to believe the book club meeting was only that afternoon.

Mingi looked over at Yunho, still out in dreamland. If it was sophomore year, Mingi would’ve jumped on his friend right then and there, fighting for space on the floor mattress.

But it wasn’t. So Mingi laid down on the ground, in the spot where San was just a moment ago.

≿━━━━༺🕮༻━━━━≾

Less than a mile away, the two remaining members of the book club were utterly unbothered, happily oblivious of everything going on. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang’s favorite Thai restaurant was only a few blocks off-campus, and if you continued heading in that direction for another couple minutes you would eventually reach their apartment building.

That was the route the two boys were taking when Seonghwa first stepped through Hongjoong’s door. The heat emitting off the pavement painted the scenery in rippling lines. Excitement was tingling in the air, radiating from the grin Yeosang couldn’t keep off his lips to the vividness in Wooyoung’s step. 

Wooyoung would never admit he was the sentimental type, but when Yeosang moved out, he really missed their bimonthly tradition of grabbing stir-fried noodles and burning through an entire show within a day (or two). It provided an opportunity to just relax for a bit and neglect all responsibility. Plus, it was one of the only times the two friends wouldn’t be bickering, instead absorbed in the convoluted plot of whatever they were watching.  
Many, many all-nighters had been pulled. The lost hours of slumber were completely worth the satisfaction from hearing the end credits after going through a twenty-six-hour emotional journey.

The staff at the restaurant counter widened her eyes when she saw the two boys enter. “You two! It’s been a while.”

Wooyoung shot her a charming smile. “It has. Do you still remember our usual order?”

She blinked a couple times, disarmed by his looks, before responding, “Pad thai, ka prao, spring rolls.”

“Right.”

“Okay, it’ll be just a moment. Wait right here please.” She scurried away to the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone, Yeosang nudged Wooyoung’s arm. “Trying your best to get us a discount, huh.”

Wooyoung scrunched up his nose in response. It wasn’t that he was _trying_ to flirt with the staff, but if he could somehow get benefits by merely amplifying his existing qualities…

In just a few minutes, she was back with their order. She averted Wooyoung’s gaze when he thanked her and flushed when their hands brushed as she handed him change.

Yeosang never stopped teasing Wooyoung as they continued on their walk, going on and on about Wooyoung’s journey to Casanova status.

For the longest time, Wooyoung didn’t reply, until finally he turned to the other and said, “Yeosang, you _know_ I’m gay.”

Both burst out into laughter. “Kinda easy to forget that when you attempt to seduce every person you come across,” Yeosang replied, pushing open the door to their apartment.

“It’s called networking.”

“Uh huh. And how’s that going for you?”

Wooyoung gestured to the food in front of them, which had cost way less than it was supposed to. “Pretty well, obviously!”

Yeosang opened the takeout boxes, Wooyoung set the show up on his laptop, and before long, they were all ready to start. Surrounded by pillows and covered by a ratty blanket, they were engulfed in the type of comfort that makes you not want to move for fear of breaking the spell.

Through a mouthful of rice, Wooyoung commented, “Oh my god, it’s so obvious that they—”

“It wasn’t obvious to you the first time we watched this,” Yeosang responded.

“Well, yeah, but now it is. Like, look at him, dude! Doesn’t he just scream ‘I’m a bad guy’?”

Yeosang pointed with his fork. “It’s the bowtie.”

“For sure.”

Wooyoung cheered loudly when the next character was introduced, startling Yeosang to the point where he almost threw the container he was holding in the air.

“Oh my god—”

“I’m sorry, but he’s the best person out of the entire cast and you will _never_ be able to convince me otherwise!”

“I wasn’t trying to, now let me eat in peace.”

Through the next three hours, the two continued like this, Wooyoung making a ruckus whenever he got excited and Yeosang doing his best to calm him down.

As the food was finished and light left the room, Wooyoung’s energy seemed to fade with it. He would only murmur lines along with the show, but there were no more wild outbursts. 

“ ‘Birth is a curse and existence is a prison,’ ” Wooyoung drawled, waving a hand half-deliriously. “Hands down my favorite line.”

Yeosang nodded wordlessly. Both of them were quite tired, after all. It had been a long day. 

Wooyoung slumped down, resting his head on his friend’s lap. He yawned. “What time is it?”

Yeosang’s eyes darted to the corner of the screen. “2:14.”

“No—” Wooyoung yawned again, “—sleep...”

“...until the finale,” Yeosang finished. It was the singular rule of their movie night; it hadn’t been broken thus far, and neither of them were about to break it tonight. 

Wooyoung rubbed his eyes. “Halfway through.”

The long-abandoned takeout cartons were sitting on the table, illuminated by the blue light of the screen. The same blue washed over the two boys, who were positioned in such a way that their heads were resting upon one another. It was comfortable and familiar. 

Despite the hapless conditions of the flat—the popcorn ceiling, lopsided couch, and stubby coffee table—their camaraderie made it so that all of it could be forgotten. There were no money problems or overdue homework. Everything beside them and their laptop melted away.

Yeosang cracked his neck. Checked the time again. 4:30am. He sensed that Wooyoung’s breathing had changed; he had probably drifted off a while ago. He checked the episode title and gave a little sigh of relief when he found it to be the last chapter… of Season 2. _Well_ , he thought, _we never specified which finale._

Through half-lidded eyes, Yeosang absently watched the characters move on screen, the quick close up before the cut to black. 

_Are you still watching?_

The text prodded at him, almost teasingly. But Yeosang wasn’t going to take the bait. Moving slowly, very carefully, as to not disturb his sleeping friend, he powered off the laptop and ever-so-quietly shut it.

_No, I’m not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: "new chapter up in a week :)"  
> also me: *disappears for 2 months*
> 
> I'M SO SORRY GUYS THAT WAS SUCH A JERK MOVE I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME life's been busy since the last update!! started school up again so i haven't had much time to write ;-; i've also been busy doing stuff on my [tumblr](https://yunwoo.tumblr.com) so this fic has been on the back burner ;-;
> 
> i feel like even though it's only been a couple months, my narration style has changed the teensiest bit (especially noticable during the mingi section),, probably got influenced by reading the simon snow books sfdkjfdsjk
> 
> thank you to every single one of my regular commenters & readers!! you may not know this, but when i'm feeling uninspired, i go back & read all the kind words you've left me & it gives me a ton of strength ^^ even simple words like "i loved this" & "keep it up" are serotonin-producing, so if you've been too shy to leave a message before, it really doesn't have to be complex at all!! thank you guys so much for reading, i love you all soso much <3<3<3


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